


Vengeance

by thechinskyguy



Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe, Kidnapping, Long, Out of Character, Pokemon Death
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-01
Updated: 2018-12-05
Packaged: 2019-07-21 01:04:17
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Major Character Death
Chapters: 19
Words: 58,943
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16149296
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thechinskyguy/pseuds/thechinskyguy
Summary: The newly revived Team Rocket – now known as the Rocket Empire – has taken over the Sinnoh region. Their new leader, Jasper, has his eyes set on an egg that mysteriously fell from the sky outside of Hearthome. The only problem? Ash and Co. got to it first. Now it's a fight for survival as Ash, Brock, and Dawn can do nothing but hide from the Empire's deadly reach.





	1. Landfall

 

_November 12_

Ash stared up at the nighttime sky, the notion of blinking away the insomnia long gone. He shot a jealous glance at Brock, who slept like a rock a few feet away from him. Drool dribbled down his chin, his spiked brown hair thrown about around his head messily. A collage of leaves danced off of the trees above them and skittered over them and their blankets.

                Bitter cold winds bit at his skin. Ash could do nothing but coil in his blanket and look to the stars for sleep. He chanced upon a shooting star, growing brighter as it tore through the dark sky. Waving it away, he closed his eyes to shield himself from the brightness.

                But even through his eyelids, Ash could still see the shooting star. He gasped when he saw that the shooting star hadn’t faded away, but grew in size and brightness. Mouth hanging open, his eyes followed the star until it crash landed with a small thud several hundred meters away.

                A mystifying sensation suddenly washed over Ash. He felt the urge to chase after whatever this thing was, to run for it and take hold of it before anyone else could. Pushing himself to his feet, he broke into a swift stride toward the star, which provided the only guiding light Ash had.

                He could barely hear Dawn jumping awake behind her. There was no urge to stop and address Dawn when she shouted at him, no urge to do anything but run for this _thing_ like his life depended on it.

                Reaching the object after what seemed like ages of running, Ash beheld the sight of a white stone, no bigger than a loaf of bread. The crater that surrounded could easily fit the three trainers, and probably Pikachu as well. Smoke seemed to ooze from the stone, but Ash couldn’t feel any heat hitting his body. The same force that prompted Ash to run for the stone made him pick it up, even against his own common sense; who knew how hot this thing could be?

                To his surprise, the stone felt cool to the touch. It was heavy, too; ten or fifteen pounds at least.

                “ _Liquid nitrogen, maybe?”_ Ash thought. “ _What else could smoke so coldly like this? None of it exists in space, though. If it’s not that, then-“_

Dawn’s tired voice behind him made him jump. “Where the hell did that _thing_ come from?”

                He turned to see her fatigued figure, illuminated only by the effulgence of the stone. “I have no idea,” he replied. “It just fell from the sky. It’s some kind of stone, but I don’t know why it would give off so much light.”

                It was the same light that revealed Brock jogging toward them, Pikachu following close behind. “You couldn’t have waited to run off so suddenly without bothering to wake me up first?” he asked sarcastically. His eyes darted toward the stone, swimming with curiosity in an instant. “What’s that?”

                “You’re asking the wrong guy,” Ash said, handing him the stone. The breeder examined with a careful eye as the four of them silently trekked back to camp, Pikachu riding on Ash’s back.

                “I can’t say for certain,” Brock said when they arrived, “but I think this might actually be a Pokémon egg.”

                Ash and Dawn looked at him astonishingly. “How does an egg like that survive a crash landing from so high up?” Ash asked.

                “Pikaa pi?”

                “Beats me, but it sure as hell looks like one. The only problem is that it doesn’t _feel_ like one. Of all the eggs I’ve seen, this is the only one that’s felt any different. Heavier, too. Even I can’t identify it. We’ll have to take it to a Pokémon Center tomorrow and see if they can do anything about it.”

                “Where’s the nearest one at, though? And how do we know that they’ll be able to identify it if a breeder like you can’t?” Dawn asked, pointing at Brock with an accusatory finger.

                Ash couldn’t help but feel concerned. “There’s the one in Hearthome City. If we get up early tomorrow, we can be there by lunch time.”

                “And going there is the only shot we have,” Brock said. “In the meantime, we’ll just have to keep an eye on it. Something like this shouldn’t be left unsupervised, though, so I’ll go ahead and stay up with it.” He glanced at his wristwatch. “It’s almost midnight now, so I’ll stay up with it until around three. Dawn, would you mind waking up around that time to keep an eye on it?”

                She shrugged. “Sounds fine to me.” Her worried expression hadn’t gone away at all. She silently wormed her way under her blankets, with Ash and Pikachu doing the same after a moment’s hesitation. Brock, meanwhile, sat himself up against a nearby tree with a book in his hand, using the egg as a reading light of sorts.

                A million questions raced through Ash’s head about the egg, but he resisted the will to ask them out loud. “ _Dawn and Brock are probably just as clueless as I am,”_ he thought.

                If he couldn’t sleep  before everything had happened, it may as well have been the middle of the day now. No matter how much Ash tossed or turned on the soft, cool ground, he couldn’t find sleep. After an hour, he sighed in defeat and turned to the sky in preparation of a long, sleepless night.

*****

_November 13_

                Minutes had barely passed before a loud, abrupt ringing awoke Jasper from his slumber. Grumbling, he swiped the phone on his end table and put it up to his ear hastily.

                “What is it?” he answered, but all that came out in his grogginess was, “Whuzz?”

                “Jasper, its Laina,” a voice answered. “Something’s happened that requires your immediate attention. We need you to get to Headquarters right away.”

                He turned to his alarm clock and groaned. “It’s three AM, Laina. Can’t this wait till morning?”

                “This is extremely urgent, Jasper. We need you to come in now.”

                “But Laina!” Jasper complained, but she had already hung up the phone. He cursed under his breath as he threw the phone at the wall, shattering it to pieces. His foot found a pair of dirty jeans under his bed, as well as a white undershirt, so he threw those on. They weren’t anywhere near his usual Rocket jumpsuit that he wore to work every day, but Jasper didn’t care. “ _That’s what Laina gets for waking me up so damn early,”_ he thought.

                The walk down the stairs and out of his apartment building was a quiet one. As the head of the entire Rocket Empire, attention followed him naturally wherever he went. He couldn’t remember the last time he went to work without a bodyguard.

                When he arrived at Rocket Headquarters in Celadon, his face scrunched in disgust when he saw the grunt at the desk had fallen asleep. Jasper didn’t know how to buzz himself in, so he had to walk in through the back door and jog up fifty flights of stairs. Fuming, he burst through the doors of the Executive Office, where he effectively ruled over the Eastern Sector of the Rocket Empire.

                Laina sat hunched over at her desk, poring over some papers and a mug of coffee. Jasper let out a short cough to get her attention. She immediately stood and turned to face him, but he gestured for her to ease up.

                “Was this really so important that I had to come in this early?” Jasper growled.

                She nodded uneasily. “There are actually a few things that we need to discuss. These couldn’t wait, sir, so that’s why we called you in so late.”

                “Well, sit down then. Let’s talk,” mumbled Jasper. The two of them proceeded to pull up chairs to the large, round table that took up the entire center of the room.

                “So, first off,” Laina started, “our men in the Foreign and Extraterrestrial Affairs Department detected a small, unidentified object crash-land on Earth about three hours ago. The satellites were only able to capture a still image of it before it flew off, but based on its trajectory, speed, and velocity in which it was going, we think it might’ve landed somewhere in Sinnoh.”

                Jasper had an intense look of curiosity on his face. “Bring up the image of the object on the monitor,” he said, pointing to a large projector that sat on the table. She walked over to the computer on the wall and began typing furiously on the keyboard.

                “Besides that, though, I received word from Mahon, over at Warmaking and Law Enforcement, about the Sinnoh invasion,” she said unwaveringly.

                “And? What did he say?” Jasper asked.

                “He said that the Empire’s army has fully armed themselves for the upcoming Sinnoh annexation. All we need is your word, and we can send the troops over for the initial takeover,” reported Laina.  An expectant look washed over her.

                Jasper went from puzzled to joyous in an instant. “But we weren’t scheduled to head over there for another three weeks! This is great news! This is-“              

                “Sir,” Laina interrupted, “there’s more to it, though, that’ll make all of this even better.”

                He looked at her with mild irritation and nodded slowly.

                “I spoke with Skylar about an hour ago,” said Laina. She opened her mouth to say something more, but the doors behind them opened to reveal another girl, just a little older than Laina, striding in.

                “Speak of the devil,” Laina remarked. “I was about to tell Jasper here about what you did earlier.”

                The girl grinned. “He was waiting on me, then?” She raised her eyebrows cockily, her blue eyes glistening in the low light of the office.

                “Not quite, Skyla,” Jasper said. “But I’m still interested to hear what you have to say. Please, sit.”

                Skyla wordlessly pulled up a chair and sat in between the other two executives. “I’ve managed to hack into the central mainframe of the Sinnoh electrical grid,” she said. “No one there knows it, but the Rocket Empire now has full access into their central database, as well as all of their surveillance mechanisms and electrical circuits. Once we invade, they won’t stand a chance.”

                Jasper didn’t have time to react, for Laina had retrieved the image of the falling object and projected it onto the wall. It appeared to be a blazing white ball of fire, and a small one at that. “ _Not small enough to be a shooting star, though,”_ Jasper thought.

                “That’s an egg…” Jasper whispered to himself. But since when did eggs fall from the sky like that?

                “Skyla, have your men keep an eye on the surveillance systems tomorrow and see if anyone has found that egg. If they did, it’ll be that much easier to track it down. Laina, tell Mahon to keep the army on standby for now. We need to wait until the time is right before we invade.”

                The two women nodded and got up to leave the room.

                “Oh, and Laina,” Jasper called. She stayed behind as Skyla exited the room.

                “Yes?”

                “I’m gonna sneak you into Sinnoh first thing tomorrow, to act as a ground spy until we send in the troops,” Jasper said.

                “What?! No way! You can’t-“

                “Yes I damn well can, Laina!” Jasper barked. “And I don’t want to hear another word about it. I trust that you won’t let me down?” He smiled intimidatingly, the superiority brimming from his teeth.

                A twinge of fear flashed across Laina, if only for a split second. “Yes, sir,” she grumbled.

                “Excellent. Now, don’t bother me anymore tonight unless it’s something extremely important. Being woken up once at three in the morning is bad enough.”

                Laina simply nodded glumly and turned away from him. Jasper ignored her pouts and strode out of the room, the savory taste of Sinnoh’s downfall on the brim of his lips.

 


	2. Warmongers

_November 13_

Brock and Dawn walked alongside Ash through the streets of Hearthome, their hands warming their upper arms. The slight chattering of Dawn’s teeth resonated in Ash’s head like a gong, the light emanating from the egg nearly disorienting him. The sweat that dribbled down his chin boiled as hot as a summer day. Ash wiped a forehead of sweat into his hand.

                “Isn’t it a little cold for this time of year?” Dawn asked.

                Brock shrugged. “Doesn’t bother me much.”

                “What’re you guys talking about?” Ash said, raising his eyebrows in genuine concern. “It’s hot as hell out here!”

                Everyone but Ash stopped walking and stared at him. Pikachu’s expression thought Ash had been joking.

                “Ash, it’s barely thirty degrees outside, and we’re all wearing short sleeved shirts!” Brock said. “You mean to tell me that you’re not cold at all?”

                “Ya kidding me?” Ash threw the egg up in the air playfully, laughing as he caught it mere inches from the ground. “These clothes are enough to make me stuffy!”

                Dawn sighed before her eyes went wide. “Ash, watch out!” she cried, tugging him to her side. He laughed when he saw that he nearly ran into a lamppost.

                “Who da hell put tha’ thing dere?” Ash slurred. The lamppost suddenly blurred, becoming an undefined gray blob. His footsteps were no longer uniform, but drunken.

                Pikachu looked at him uneasily. “Pika, ka chu?”

                “I’m fine, dammit!” Ash shouted. Bystanders looked up from their morning coffee to see him waving his arms around madly, the egg barely staying in his grasp.

                “Ash, give me that egg before you drop it!” Dawn demanded.

                He said nothing, prompting Dawn Brock to yank it from his loose hands. He opened his mouth to shout at him, but his wooziness brought him to the ground, unconscious.

*****

                “Miss Skyla?”

                The executive looked up from Mahon’s desk to see one of the grunts standing over her. “Yes?”

                “You’re needed over at Surveillance Operatives,” said the grunt. There was no emotion about his face, only formality. “I’m not sure what for, though. No one’s told me anything, yet.”

                Skyla sighed and turned to Mahon. “I’ll be back in a sec.”

                Mahon grinned and nodded. “Good luck with Jasper, if he’s there.”

                “I’ll try.”

                The grunt escorted her to the elevator silently. He walked in first when the lift door opened, but Skyla gestured for him to get out.

                “I can get there on my own, thanks,” she mumbled. “I run that division, after all.”

                He nodded and walked out, leaving Skyla on her own to press the button to Floor Six, where the Surveillance Operative Division was housed.

                Another private met her the moment she stepped off of the elevator. “Ma’am, we found something that we need you to see,” he said. Without another word, the grunt led her to a large wall of television monitors. She had to adjust her eyes against the bright monitors in the dimly lit room, squinting her eyes to get a good look at the image.

                “This is footage we picked up from Hearthome,” the grunt started. “The stone that we were told to look for has apparently been picked up by a group of teenage trainers. We haven’t identified exactly what it is, but it looks to be supernatural, since it obviously did something to the boy, here.”

                Skyla zoned out before the grunt completed his first sentence. Every ounce of her attention span narrowed onto the footage from Hearthome, her eyes solely fixated on the stone that the smaller boy carried. She almost gasped when he fell to the ground, only for him to be carried away by the girl that followed him.

                After almost a minute, she broke her hypnotic stare from the egg, turning back to the grunt. “Fetch me Jasper from the Executive Office,” she said slowly.

                The grunt only stared at her, perplexed at her sudden calmness. His mouth hung slightly agape, drool starting to drip onto his dull grey jumpsuit.

                “Now!” Skyla ordered. The grunt scrambled off in fright, and everyone else in the room jerked their heads toward the nearest piece of paper to look busy.

                Jasper burst into the room five minutes later, his platinum hair sprinkled in beads of sweat. “Can’t a day go by without anyone clamoring for me like it’s the end of the goddamn world?” he exclaimed.

                Skyla’s expression turned from distress to worry. “S-S-Sir, w-what we f-found —“

                “I don’t give two shits about what you found!” shouted Jasper, primed and ready to explode, “I’m pretty damn sure it could’ve waited till —“

                “Sir, we found your stone!” screamed Skyla, her face a blushed red.

                All emotion and color in Jasper’s face vanished in an instant with a deep, calming breath. “Good. Where?”

                Skyla took a few breaths herself before answering. “Hearthome. A group of trainers picked it up.” She pointed to the looping video footage, blown up now on all of the monitors in the room.

                Jasper became transfixed on the stone as Skyla had. The shock on his face when the boy fainted was even more potent than Skyla’s had been. After what seemed like hours, he cocked his head back to Skyla, a razor thin grin replacing his trademark scowl.

                “That’s it,” he whispered. “That’s all that we need.” He ran for the door.

                “I don’t — what?” Skyla called to him. “All that we need for what?”

                He turned to face her again, standing under the doorway, a wide smile in place of his papery grin. “To launch the occupation, of course! I’m sending out the troops straightaway. Keep Sinnoh’s electrical systems on standby. We may need to shut them down any minute.”

*****

                Fatigue and weariness set in after Ash came to. The soft texture of the sofa he lay on didn’t help much. Dawn, Brock, Pikachu, and a woman in white and pink clothing surrounded him. “ _Pokémon Center,”_ he realized. Panic rose to the surface when he realized that none of them had the egg.

                “Where is it?!” he exclaimed. “What happened to the—“

                “Ash, don’t worry!” Dawn said. “The nurses are running some tests on it, to try and identify it.”

                He stroked Pikachu behind the ears, the recollection of what had happened earlier coming back to him. “Wh-what happened?” he wondered aloud. “I felt dizzy, drunk almost, and-“

                “You fainted from exhaustion. All we can figure is that something from the egg triggered it,” the nurse sighed. She twinged in a slight, forced grin.

                “The egg?” Ash asked. “What sort of egg could do that, though?”

                “That’s what they’re trying to figure out,” said Brock. “Eggs don’t give off any energy like that, so that’s why we want to have it identified right away. It might be genetically mutated, but we don’t know for sure.”

                From the corner of his eye, Ash noticed a girl – with long brown hair and a youthful, cunning complexion – staring at him with intense concentration. He mentally waved her away and asked, “What have you found so far, nurse?”

                “Not much,” she said grimly. “Just that this isn’t your normal Pokémon egg.” She glanced briefly out the window. “It’s getting dark out. You may as well stay the night. I’ll get you some dinner.”

                “ _Great,”_ thought Ash as the nurse walked away. “ _Not only is this egg some supernatural oddity, but we don’t even know what kind of oddity it is!”_

“You were out for a long time,” Brock said. “Almost eight hours.”

                Ash turned to the window and saw that darkness had enveloped the streets, interrupted only by the scattered street lights. Nighttime.

                “Pika pi chu?”

                Ash shrugged. “Pikachu’s right. What are we gonna do about this egg? Are we gonna let these guys keep it, or…” he trailed off.

                “Or what?” Dawn asked, raising her eyebrows in worry when Ash started staring into space. She and Brock craned their necks and noticed a girl, the same one that Ash saw, staring back at them from the rear of the clinic. The girl caught their looks and widened her eyes before bolting out of her seat, disappearing from the Pokémon Center.

                “What was that all about?” Ash said.

                “Dunno,” Brock mumbled. “You think she knows anything about the egg?”

                “Chu.”

                Ash frowned.  “Anyways, we’ll have to wait and see what the tests come up with. It’s more than likely that they’ll let us keep it once they’re done. Still, it really is strange, for it to radiate so much energy.

                Brock and Dawn fell silent, but Ash didn’t fill the gap. Even after dinner, spaghetti with meatballs, was served, no words were exchanged. Between the silence, however, the four of them preoccupied themselves with the thought that this egg, whatever it was, it would end up being a hell of a lot of trouble.

*****

                Laina ran until she almost fell over from exhaustion. Picking herself up, she looked over her shoulder to make sure no one followed her out of the Pokémon Center. She cursed between heavy sighs of exhaustion. “ _After sitting for six hours in that damn clinic, and I don’t even get the egg out of it?”_

                Every nerve in her body wanted to collapse to the ground, but the stiff, chilly November air kept her moving. She avoided the street lights, walking to the city limits in complete darkness. It wasn’t until she reached a large sign that read “HEARTHOME CITY WELCOMES YOU!” that she stopped. It took all of her energy to keep from collapsing, to keep from doing other than leaning against the sign, gasping for breath.

                She splurged herself with five whole minutes of relaxation before digging for her phone in her pocket, punching in the numbers to Jasper’s direct line. Her foot started tapping the cold, frozen ground after the third ring.

                “This is the Executive Office of—“ a grunt started after the seventh ring.

                “I want…huff…Jasper on the line…now!” Laina hissed, wiping away any sense of formality. The private dropped the phone and ran for Jasper, leaving Laina once more in the silent, dark night.

                “Laina’s on the phone,” she heard the grunt say to Jasper. “It sounds like it’s urgent.”

                A loud grumble broke from the other end. “What is it, Laina?” said Jasper.

                “Jasper…sir…huff…I found them. The trainers that had the egg, I mean. I didn’t get to see what they did with it, though.”

                His anger resurfaced instantly. “Why the hell didn’t you get to find out?”

                “They blew my cover before I had the chance, sir.”

                It took Jasper a few moments to respond. “Who else in in Sinnoh with you?” he asked. “Is anyone from your Interrogation Team there? What about the mercenaries?”

                “ _My Interrogation Team? Why would he need any of them?”_

“I only brought one of my assistants,” she said. “He’s waiting for me back at the apartment with our truck. I left everyone else that’s under my command back at the Western Capital.”

                Jasper took another silent moment to himself. “Alright, listen,” he said. “The invasion is going to take place tomorrow. We have everything we need, and all of the plans are in place. Where are you situated at right now?”

                “I rented an apartment for a few days in the city,” she said. “Right now I’m just outside of Hearthome. Like I said, I had to get away from—“

                “Turn around and go back to that Pokémon Center,” said Jasper. “I’ll have Skyla cut Sinnoh’s electrical grids once you get there. When the lights go out, I want you to sneak in there and get one of those Trainers with the egg to fess up. Kidnap them if you have to, anything to figure out where that damned egg is.”   

                “ _Great, another kidnapping mission,”_ thought Laina. The thought of another messy interrogation almost made her sick.

                “The power won’t come back on until after we’ve fully occupied the region, so be careful. Jubilife will be our main target, since it’ll serve as the Northern Capital, but Hearthome’s gonna be hard hit as well. Are you getting all of this?”

                Laina tried, and failed, to process every bit of information at once. “I think so, sir. I’ll have that truck waiting outside of the center with me. I’m only gonna need one, right?”

                “It’d be cumbersome to kidnap all of them. Just go for one of the trainers, and you should be good to go.”

                Laina turned around and broke into a full-speed sprint for the city. “I’m on my way, sir. I’ll call you once I get there.”

                She ended the call and dialed her assistant, running awkwardly with the phone up to her ear.

                “Yuh?” he answered.

                Laina entered the city and dashed into a side alley. “Bring the truck and pull it up in front of the Pokémon Center,” she sighed. “There’s business we have to take care of.”


	3. Interrogation

_November 13_

                Laina stood just outside the streetlamp’s reach, tapping her foot impatiently against the asphalt. Her back faced the Pokémon Center, a beacon of light in the otherwise opaque night. She shot another nervous glance toward the clinic, squinting in desperation in search for the trainers who had the egg. A sigh of relief escaped her when she saw their backs turned to the entrance. “ _This’ll be easy,”_ she thought. “ _Now there’s no reason for Jasper to get pissy.”_

                She assessed the main floor’s layout, analyzing every walkway, couch, trainer, and pokémon inside. Her eyes fell on the raven-haired boy, who sat on the edge of a row of seats. His arms looked stocky, but not enough to where he’d be able to put up a fight. “ _The girl next to him doesn’t look all that strong, either. His Pikachu might be a problem, and so will that other trainer, but they’ll all have darkness against them.”_

                The plan, as simplistic as it seemed, ran through her head without pause. She could’ve recited it backward while solving a Rubik’s Cube by the time she dialed Jasper’s number.

                His voice sounded after just one ring. “You there yet?”

                “Yeah, I’m just waiting on Skyla. Is she all set?”

                “Affirmative. But there’s something else, though,” Jasper said. “She did some research and found that all of the Pokémon Centers in Sinnoh run on some special foreign generator. She isn’t able to tap into it, for some reason.”

                Laina groaned. “What does that mean, then?”

                “We’ll still be able to shut them down, but not for long. Whatever you’re gonna do in there, you gotta do it quickly.” He paused. “I’d guess ninety seconds, depending on how long it takes the nurses in there to restore the generator. It’s not worth the extra effort to try and destroy it.”

                “Great,” mumbled Laina. “That just makes a job that I don’t wanna do even harder!”

                Jasper ignored her sarcasm. “It’s seven thirty now, and Skyla wired the grids to blink out at seven thirty-five. Wait outside the door of the clinic, and make sure that your truck isn’t waiting too far away, either.”

                Laina said nothing and hung up the phone, scratching the side of her head in hopes of mentally preparing herself. Her watch read seven thirty-three. At the end of the block, Laina saw an unassuming, dully white station wagon parked illegally. A man could be seen in the side mirror.

                She nodded to him, and he did the same.

                Wringing her hands did nothing to stop the anxiety from setting in. A pair of night vision goggles, designed by Skyla for operations like these, was tucked under her armpit. An oblong Sleeping Syringe stuck out in her pocket.

                The minute hand on her watch seemed to reverberate as it inched toward the next dash on the watch. Seven thirty-four. “ _Oh shit,”_ she thought to herself, “ _this is it! What’s gonna happen if I mess up again? The kid could get away, or-“_

                A deep, looming sensation of worry overcame her suddenly. She glanced at her watch again; seven thirty-five. “ _Is Skyla late? No, she can’t be! Was the operation called off?”_ She began to pace back and forth frantically, attracting the attention of a choice few late-night pedestrians. Beads of cold sweat trickled down her face, dripping onto her jacket.

                “ _That’s it, I’m calling Jasper.”_

                Before she could dig out her phone, complete and utter darkness enveloped her whole. Panic and confusion set in around her almost immediately. She could hear screams of fright pierce the night, and people clamored about her, trying to guide themselves around. With a deep breath, Laina fumbled the night vision goggles over her head and, with Sleeping Syringe in hand, burst into the doors of the Pokémon Center.

*****

                Ash scarfed his plate of spaghetti and meatballs in silence, listening to Dawn and Brock talk about breeding techniques or something. A nurse walked past him, accidently brushing against the sleeping Pikachu’s back.

                “Excuse me, ma’am,” Ash cajoled, brimming with excitement and anticipation over the egg.

                The nurse turned to face Ash, jamming a note pad into her pocket. “Yes?”

                Before Ash could ask about the egg, all of the lights in the room blinked out, as did all of the streetlights. A mild panic broke out, consisting of a few screams and breaking glass. Ash felt Pikachu stir awake amongst the flurry of murmurs that underlined the dying shouts. A hand nudged the corner of his lip.

                “The heck’s your deal?” Ash said.

                “Sorry,” Brock’s voice answered. He raised his voice over the panic. “I’m just trying to feel around for you guys. Here, let me get my-“

                All of Pikachu’s weight on Ash’s shoulder allayed itself suddenly. The suddenness of it didn’t imply that he jumped off willingly. He heard a loud thud on the wall to his left, and a sharp, jolting cry of pain struck Ash’s ears.

                “Pikachu?” he called out frantically.

                A stabbing pain shot through his neck. He gasped in pain, but it could hardly be heard over the clamoring of the nurses and patrons in the clinic. He reached behind him and yanked from his neck a small syringe which, even in the dark, glowed bright neon orange.

                “Guys, something’s wr—“Ash trembled, but a jabbing sensation in his gut knocked the wind out of him. Falling to the ground, he felt confused trainers and pokémon stumble over him, bruising him in the face and chest.

                Swallowing his pain, he got up and swung wildly, without aim. A dull ache shook his fist when it made contact with someone’s jaw. Another jabbing in his leg, almost like someone drove a knife through it, brought him down once more.

                Again, he tried to get up, but a foggy, woozy cloud in his head kept him down. Dawn’s body covered him, but got off just as fast. The weariness that slowly spread down Ash’s spine felt too contrived to be natural. Someone had to be drugging him.

                A pair of hands began to lift him up. These were too slender to be Brock’s, too large for Dawn’s. Ash swung into the air with renewed vigor, but his arm felt like lead. He couldn’t even lift it when he tried to throw a third punch.

                He could hear the others shouting hysterically for him, but even that was fading fast. His limping body couldn’t resist any longer against his presumed captor, and he could only watch through heavy eyelids as he was dragged out of the building.

                “D-D-Daw…” he stammered, but he couldn’t force a cohesive word from his mouth. A beefier pair of hands jerked his arms behind his back and wrapped a thick coil of wire around them.

                “ _The…the egg-“_ he thought. “ _Th-they want…”_

                His body flew into the air for a split second before landing hard on a metal surface, his face breaking the fall. Blood trickled from his nose and into his mouth, quelled only by the burlap sack that now covered his head. He got up in a last-ditch effort at escape, but a foot rammed his bottom, forcing him to the ground as he blacked out.

*****

                Dawn felt around in the darkness for Ash frantically. She could feel the worry turning to anxiety, the anxiety turning to adrenaline-fueled fear in a matter of seconds. “Ash!” she shrieked.

                “Pikachu!” Brock interjected. “What happened? Ash?”

                Light blasted at their pupils with unmerciful pain. They shielded their eyes from the restored lights, whipping their heads around frantically. Couches and end tables lay overturned, and trainers ran around to reunite with their friends, or their pokémon, some of whom sustained injuries.

                “Pikachu!” Brock ran over to the wall on his left, where an unmoving Pikachu lay. Fearing the worst, Dawn followed him, tripping over a vase and cutting her hand.

                The pokémon breathed, but shallow and broken. A large bruise throbbed from his back.

                “You alright, buddy?” Dawn coaxed.

                He nodded curtly. “Chu…” he moaned.

                “We need a nurse!” Brock shouted. Judging by the chaos that had yet to subside, he knew that he wouldn’t get one. Pikachu sat up without warning, scanning the room for his trainer.

                “Oh shit,” Dawn breathed. “Where’s-“

                “Ash?” Brock called. “Ash, what’s happened?”

                He only heard silence amongst the chaos.

*****

                Ash regained his conscience gradually. At first it was nothing but a mere state of self-awareness; he felt that he existed, but nothing beyond that. The coarse burlap sack slipped off of his head when the man threw him from the truck and onto hard, cold pavement. He blacked out again when they – a woman and her partner – dragged him up a cemented staircase. If he hadn’t slammed his head so hard on those stairs, he would’ve stayed conscious.

                It wasn’t until he lay on his knees that he woke for good. Instantly, he stood up in a panic…or tried to, at least. His arms were outstretched, chained to the wall behind him. Even with the lights off, he could make out the simple, four-walled room. A blinded window, a door opposite him. Nothing else.

                He licked his upper lip tensely, tasting the dried blood caked under his nose. The chains that pinned his arms rattled with any and every movement he made, piercing Ash’s ears with twinges of helplessness.

                In an impromptu burst of energy, he surged his arms forward, but the chains held taut. Minutes of this went by before Ash hung his head in exhaustion.

                “-we gonna do about-“

                Ash’s eyes darted toward the door, craning his ear as best as he could toward the voices. Two of them, a trebled male and a flat female’s, grew louder with each footstep. The terror and adrenaline flooded in Ash, freezing his limbs like icicles.

                Two silhouettes walked through the door, silencing themselves as they closed it behind them. The three of them stood in the darkness, staring each other down with fear or concentration.

                “Who are you and what are you-“Ash hissed, but a foot to his jaw cut him off. He cried out in agony, but he fell silent when a pair of delicate hands, the same ones from the Pokémon Center, jerked his face toward the window. Someone, probably the woman’s partner, opened the blinds, unleashing the daytime sun into Ash’s eyes.

                “Listen up you little shit,” the woman said, pressing a decidedly sharp knife against Ash’s neck. The voice sounded feminine, but its innocent, sultry tone caused Ash to squirm in place. “You see what’s out that window? It’ll be ours soon. It’ll be decimated, just like the rest of Sinnoh. Innocent lives will be lost, thousands of them. Unless…”

                The lights in the room turned on, and the other man shuttered the blinds closed. “Unless you give us the egg,” she finished. The woman let go of Ash’s face and pocketed her knife. Ash looked up to see his captor, which looked like the girl that ran away from the Center before the blackout. He could see the defined cheek bones, the young look about her. She couldn’t have looked more than two years older than he was.

                Both the girl and the man wore dull grey jumpsuits, each sporting a bright red “R” on their chest. The man wore a flat-front cap on his head, while the woman didn’t have anything to hold back her long brown hair.

                 “ _Team Rocket?”_ he thought frantically, tugging at his chains once more. “ _Why are they in Sinnoh?”_

                “There’s no way in hell I’m telling you anything!” Ash growled. His mouth seeped with blood from the kick to his jaw, but his body filled with defiance at these people. He spat the mouthful of blood at the girl’s feet, and he grinned when it landed with a splat on the toe of her shoe.

                “Get the bucket,” she murmured. The man wordlessly strode from the apartment while she leaned against the wall, breathing deeply. The grunt emerged two seconds later, holding a pale metal bucket by its thin handle.

                Ash heard the cool water splashing inside before he saw it. He struggled with his chains futilely before the man yanked Ash by the hair and shoved his head under the surface.

                The jolt of the ice-cold water caught Ash off guard. He thrashed about madly, trying his best to worm his way back into fresh air, but the grunt held him under. The water turned crimson from Ash’s gushing blood, stinging the boy’s eyes. His lungs burned with increasing intensity the longer he floundered.

                His throat felt like it might implode before a gasp of air relieved him. He didn’t even notice the man remove the bucket from under him; Ash focused on savoring the air, like a baby escaping from a mother’s womb.

                Through the water that clouded his eyes, Ash could see Laina, standing by the door, watching the grunt poke at him.

                “Ready to talk, sweetums?” she said, her voice tauntingly sweet.

                Ash didn’t have to think about that. “Go to hell!”

                Her foot swung madly into Ash’s gut, keeling him over once more. He couldn’t feel the pain, though, for he felt a rushing feeling begin to overtake him. His eardrums pounded as if waves crashed into it, but everything was blocked out when his head went into the bucket again.

                He couldn’t feel the water against his skin, or the mounting pressure on his lungs. The supernatural flow of energy moving through him negated everything else, and he felt himself go limp.

                When he opened his eyes, a group of dark fighter jets soared over a deep blue ocean. Painted on the fins of each plane were bright red “R”’s, the same one on his captors’ jumpsuits. They flew at an almost supersonic speed, tearing through the clouds like they were shreds of paper.

                “But…but why are they flying at all?” Ash said to himself. “What business do they have outside of Kanto, if anywhere?”

                Almost on cue, the vision rotated in an about-face, like a movie shot. The façade of Mount Coronet loomed in the distance, and the pilots in the jets flew straight for its apex.

                The surreal reality settled in Ash like a rock settled in a river bed. “ _They’re coming for the whole region,”_ he realized. “ _Why else would fighter jets armed to the brim with weapons fly at full speed towards us?”_

                “ _But has this…has this already happened? I was out all night, anything could have happened since then!”_

                A violent electrical shock in his abdomen spurred him back to reality. He found himself in the same dingy apartment, in the same chains that pinned him to the wall. The man thrust the end of a Magnemite into Ash’s stomach, shocking him once more.

                “C’mon sweetums, you’ll have to talk some time!”

                Ash looked his female captor in the eye. “Fuck you,” he growled.

                She sighed. “It’s simple, kid. We can keep this up as long as it takes, or you can spill the beans and walk away in one piece.”

                “But if you’re about to take over the region, then why would I wanna walk away in the first place?”

                It’s not up to me as to whether or not you wanna live,” Laina said nonchalantly. “We’d rather have you give us the information before you die. _If_ you die.”

                “ _She’s right,”_ Ash thought. “ _If those fighter jets were a sign of anything, it’s gonna be rough if I make it out of this alive. But I…I can’t just let Team Rocket get to that egg. Even if I die, who knows what they’d do with it…”_

                “ _But then there’s Dawn, and Brock. Pikachu…”_

                Ash stared her down with an evil eye. “Alright. Fine,” he sighed. “You win. I’ve had the egg shipped to Mount Coronet. There’s a safe in-“

                The woman’s firm, bony hand seized Ash by the neck. “Don’t you dare lie to me!” she hissed. “You’ve just gotten yourself into deeper shit now!”

                A violent slap struck across Ash’s face, but he restrained his cry of pain. He couldn’t help but smile when the man shouted in frustration and stomped out of the room, with the female following suit.

*****

                “This kid isn’t gonna last much longer without either cracking or getting himself killed,” said Laina. Her partner only shrugged as she dug her cell phone out of her pocket.

                “Hey, whataya doin’?” he asked.

                “I’m calling Jasper for help,” Laina sighed. “This kid is too much of a pushover for-“

                Her eyes grew wide suddenly, and she frantically patted herself down before cursing. “I left my damn wallet back at that clinic!” she hissed.

                The man stood by and took Laina’s obscenities before she called for Jasper.

                He answered almost immediately. “What did you find out from the kid? Did he tell you where the egg is?”

                “No, I couldn’t get him to break. He’s really gunning to keep it under wraps. I lost it when he fed me false information.

                “Damnit, Laina!” Jasper shouted. Laina held her phone half a foot from her ear. “We need to find out where that egg is now! Get that kid to Jubilife. We’ll have more… _effective_ methods of extracting the truth from him there.”

                “Yes, sir,” Laina sighed in exasperation. “Anything else that you want me to do, while I’m at it?”

                “Just be quick in getting there. Like, _really_ quick.”

                She frowned. “Why?”

                “Because,” said Jasper. “The invasion has begun.”

                Laina looked to the skies and saw that he was right.


	4. Break and Enter

_November 13_

                “…possible motives or suspects?”

                “No,” Dawn mumbled. She stared at the window, sheltering her tears from the officer. For three hours, she, Brock, and a policeman argued back and forth about Ash’s disappearance. Eventually, the Pokémon Center’s lobby emptied, its trainers resigning to their rooms for the night. 

                “Welp,” said the officer, tapping his pen nonchalantly on his notepad, “there’s not much information to work with, but we’ll do the best we can to find Mr. Ketchum. Meanwhile, given the condition of the electrical grid we suggest you remain in the Center until tomorrow, when it’s lighter out. Also, since this is an open case, I ask that you remain in Hearthome until your friend’s been found. Is this understood?”

                Dawn said nothing, transfixing her gaze on the darkened streets.

                “Sure thing,” Brock answered for her. Pikachu, nestled on Dawn’s shoulder, gave her a lick of reassurance. She gave Brock a look of defeat and lay down on the couch.

                “Ma’am,” A nurse said, “I’m afraid that all of the rooms here have been filled. You’re more than welcome to stay in the lob-“

                “Fine,” Dawn said. The nurse handed her a bundle of blankets and dimmed the lights in the lobby. Dawn and Brock lay on parallel sofas divided by a coffee table, staring at the ceiling wordlessly.

                An immense struggle to find sleep ensued. Millions of gruesome thoughts raced through their heads. Neither of them could imagine where Ash was, or what happened to him. Of all the scenarios that played in their heads, none of them ended well. Ash ended up stabbed to death in one, drowned in a river in another. Twice he had his head bashed in with a sledgehammer.

                For Dawn, the thoughts suddenly became too much. “Brock?”

                It took a few seconds for him to answer. “Whuzzat?” he replied groggily.

                She sighed. “What if we don’t find him? What if we’re too late?” Pikachu grunted quietly and nuzzled himself into a ball to block his ears from their conversation.

                “Dawn, everything’s gonna be okay,” Brock said. “I’m confident that he’s-“

                “He could be hurt, or dead, or-“

                Brock propped up on his elbow and stared Dawn down with a serious eye. “Dawn, he’s fine. I know it. He’s smart enough to stay out of trouble. In the morning we’ll go out looking for him on our own, but for now we need some sleep. Tomorrow’s gonna be a long day. Alright?”

                Dawn said nothing else to Brock and turned to the ceiling coldly. She focused on the slowly revolving ceiling fan to fall asleep. Disorientation set in with each revolution of the fan, but sleep never found her. After ten minutes, she glanced at her watch. Ten fifty-seven PM.

                “ _This is gonna be a long night,”_ she thought. She continued to stare at the ceiling fan, counting each revolution of the blades like sheep.

                Losing count at eight hundred revolutions, she cursed under her breath and closed her eyes for the night. The sound of her breathing penetrated her ears, a metronome of sorts to lull her to sleep. She grew drowsy, but not enough to put her down.

*****

                Just as Brock promised, the following day dragged on. By mid-afternoon, the three already kneeled in exhaustion from running around town, searching for any trace of Ash. Worse was that their search turned up nothing.

                But throughout the entire day, Dawn felt weightless, floating. It couldn’t have been the egg; that still lay in the hands of the nurses back at the Pokémon Center. But if not that, then what?

                Brock sighed and stole a glance at his watch. “It’s almost two o’ clock. Let’s grab lunch somewhere, and get back to work.” He paused and scanned the street, raising his eyebrows when his eyes met a side alley. “Here, we can take a shortcut to the next street.”

                Pikachu pounced off of Dawn’s shoulder and scurried into the alley, darting between the legs of the other passerby. Brock and Dawn followed suit, jogging steadily toward the same alley. Pikachu stood still in the middle of it, petrified like a statue.  Brock had to turn away, vomiting in disgust from the sight of Ash’s mangled body, bloody and twisted and…

*****

_November 14_

                Dawn awoke in a cold sweat back on the Pokémon Center’s sofa. She sighed in relief at the realization that everything she just saw never happened. Her watch displayed “2:41 AM” in bright green monochrome. She took deep, heavy breaths, mentally digesting the mirage of Ash’s decimated body.

                It didn’t happen,” she whispered under breath. “It didn’t happen.” But she couldn’t convince herself otherwise. Her body shook with fright and adrenaline, like Ash’s corpse still lay in front of her.

                Brock lay sleeping on the adjacent sofa, his mouth half open, drooling on the slumbering Pikachu. Dawn sighed and pinpointed her attention to the ceiling fan again. Not even the droning revolutions of the fan’s blades could woo Dawn to sleep. Grunting in futility, she could only sit in silence and wait for morning to free her.

*****

                Contrary to the night before, Dawn and Brock were lively with conversation over a breakfast of bacon, eggs, and murky skim milk.

                “You think he might be somewhere in the sewer system?” Dawn asked.

                “Where would you get that idea?” Brock asked.

                “Pika pi?” Pikachu sat on the coffee table between the two, munching on one of Dawn’s poffins.

                “I dunno,” Dawn said. “It just came to me, I guess. But I can’t think of anywhere else where Ash might have _specifically_ gone.”

                “Well, maybe he—“ Brock began, but Dawn didn’t catch anything beyond that. Under his seat, she noticed, stuck out a black tab of leather. She reached for it and pulled out a black wallet engraved with a red “R”. They frowned at the sight of it as Dawn gently stroked the leather curiously.

                “Open it,” Brock said, welcoming Pikachu onto his shoulder. “See if there’s any ID.”

                Dawn nodded and flipped the wallet open. Inside, under a plastic cover, a young woman’s picture displayed itself under blocky lettering that spelled “ROCKET ID.” She slipped the card out from under the covering and flipped it over:

LAINA WOODWRIGHT, AGE 19

POSITION: HEAD OF SECRET OPS

SECTOR: WESTERN

                “Brock, look at this!” Dawn gasped. She handed the card to Brock, who eyed it with an astounded look on his face.

                “You don’t think that she’s the one that…” Brock stammered, the excitement swelling in his voice. Snatching the wallet from Dawn’s hands, he fumbled through the rest of the wallet. The sight of a miniscule wad of cash made his heart sink. He fingered through the bills when a small, pink slip of paper stuck out, a bronze logo for the Hearthome Apartment Complex engraved on the front. His heart soared when he flipped to the back side:

TEMPORARY RESIDENCE CARD

LEASEE: Laina Woodwright

ROOM: 1907

LEASED FROM: November 13th – November 15th

                “Today’s the fourteenth,” he realized aloud. “This Laina girl, if she has Ash…”

                He looked Dawn in the eyes, and without speaking they knew what had to be done. Pikachu leapt off of the coffee table, nudging Dawn with Ash’s bag.

                The three of them packed the rest of their bags and flew out the doors, leaving their half-eaten breakfast untouched.

                They kept a steady jog, wheezing and panting as they went. The urge to stop and rest, to keep their lungs from bursting, mounted on their muscles, but they persisted.

                Onlookers in the street stared at them with confusion, but Dawn shirked them off. They weren’t important; Ash was.

                When the apartment building loomed in the near distance, they slowed to a crawl out of anticipation and nervousness. Pikachu climbed back onto Brock’s shoulder and clung to it tightly, his nails digging into Brock’s flesh.

                “What’re we gonna do, once we get in there?” Dawn asked. “We don’t know how many of those guys there are, or if he’s even there!”

                Brock shook his head and panted furiously. “I dunno. We’ll just have to-“

                The roar of an engine above them cut him off. He looked up to see a fighter jet, flying into a circle of identical ones. They circled the city, their noses pointing toward the center of town.

                “What the…” Dawn muttered, the shock refusing to register on her face.

                “Pika…”

                In a great burst of firepower, missiles shot from the planes in every which way, darting into buildings and streets.

                “Run!” Brock shouted. The three of them ran into a side alley for cover, leaping over an overthrown patio table. A missile crashed into the skyscraper directly above them, sending a shower of debris into the streets, crushing several pedestrians. Dawn had to dive to the ground to avoid being one of them.

                “What the hell is this?” she screamed, grabbing onto Brock’s arm.

                His eyes zoomed madly across the scene, failing to digest what was really going on. Blood began to splatter on the road like paint, limbs flew from their bodies, the sounds of agony – crying, screaming, wails of pain – pierced the air. He shook his head, denying everything.

                And then the ground forces appeared out of nowhere. Dozens, maybe hundreds, firing into all directions.

                “I-I-I…” he stammered. He blinked back to sanity and whipped toward Dawn. “We have to get to that complex!”

                Dawn looked at him maniacally. “Are you crazy?” she shouted. “We’ll get killed out there!”

                “I don’t care! We have to find Ash!” He burst from the alley in a frantic sprint. Dawn, despite her fear, ran after them without thought amidst the newly crackling gunfire. Windows shattered around and above them; people fell to the ground dead. A deafening roar crashed through the air as an entire building fell a few blocks away.

                A dull white van sped through an alley, nearly mowing them over. Brock shouted curses at the truck, but stopped dead in his tracks, shock registering on his face suddenly. The back door of the van flapped open in the wind, speeding through the chaos of the invasion. Through the open door, a tied and gagged    Ash flailed about in the van’s rear, muffled screaming emanating from behind the cloth around his mouth.

                “There he is!” Brock shouted, breaking into a sprint towards the vehicle. Dawn and Pikachu followed suit, but panic overwhelmed her when her exhausted pants didn’t help her catch up to Ash.

                “Chu chu pika!”

                In a flash of brilliance, Dawn sent out Mamoswine’s Poké Ball, a bullet shaving it just after the mammoth emerged. He flinched at the amount of action around him, but stood his ground nonetheless.

                “Use Ice Shard on that van, Mamoswine!” Dawn gasped, refusing to break her stride.

                Mamoswine launched icicles the size of lampposts at the van, finding targets in two of the tires. The van flew on its side, screeching and grinding across a war-torn road. As they sprinted still, Mamoswine returned to his Poké Ball, disappearing just before the van halted in a pile of twisted metal and broken glass.

                “I’ll help Ash, you deal with the drivers!” Dawn called to Brock.

                He nodded and ran to the van’s door, flinging it open without worry of who might be inside. As it turns out, he wouldn’t have to worry. The lone driver, a fat, balding man in his fifties, lay dead on the windshield, blood covering his emaciated body. A woman’s handbag lay on top of him. Pangs on guilt curdled in Brock’s stomach, but a stray bullet that whizzed by his head negated that. He ran to the rear of the truck to see Dawn and Pikachu helping Ash out of his bonds.

                “Ash, you—“ Brock began, but short muffles from Ash’s gag cut him off. Dawn ripped it off of his mouth, causing Ash to wince in pain slightly.

                “I think I broke a few of my fingers in that crash,” he rasped, “but other than that I’m alright.”

                Everyone ducked into the back of the van to avoid the gunfire. Dawn allowed herself a good look at Ash and gasped at his bloodied face and bruised limbs.

                “What the hell happened?” she shrieked.

                “Later, okay?” he said. “Listen, everything’s about to go to shit. We gotta-“

                “Slow down, Ash,” Brock said. “What’s happening, exactly? Don’t shirk on the details.”

                Ash breathed deeply. “Those guys, the one’s that kidnapped me – they’re from Team Rocket, and they’re about to have control of the entire region. What they’re doing out there is happening all across Sinnoh. We have to loot whatever supplies we can and go into hiding."

                Disbelief struck Dawn, but the frantic, fearful glint in Ash’s eyes convinced her otherwise. Pikachu caught the same look, and soon the finality of the situation settled in – steal, or die.

                “But what about the egg?” Brock asked mournfully.

                Ash winced from his forgetfulness. “OK, Brock, get back to the Pokémon Center and find the egg. You know the layout of the Center best. I’m going with Dawn and Pikachu to the Poké Mart to loot food and supplies. Brock, head for the woods once you’re done, but make sure you aren’t being followed. Team Rocket wants that egg, and badly. Hide in a tree until we find you, understand?”

                Ash rambled incohesively, but the message seemed to hit Brock dead-on.

                He nodded and, without bidding goodbye, darted from the van, sprinting madly for the Pokémon Center.

                Dawn turned to Ash. “Are we really about to do this? Run for our lives and steal from a Poké Mart?”

                Ash nodded grimly. “What choice do we have?”

                She nodded and opened the door, and the two of them ran for the lives.

*****

                Xander Fletcher uneasily gripped the barrel of his gun, straining to keep the sweat from rolling down his forehead. He got himself into these operations time and time again, but to kill innocent bystanders as his ‘comrades’ overthrew the region? Is that what he was about to do?

                He looked down at the ‘R’ on his chest, the symbol of his false allegiance, and decided he wasn’t.

                The chopper that transported Xander and the other grunts landed in a decimated intersection. The blades’ whirring above them slowly died before the chopper’s sliding door slid open. Everyone but Xander ushered out with uniformity. He winced at the crackling gunshots in the air, at the young bodies that died without as much as a second thought from their assailants. Looking away from window, he forced himself off of the copter and onto solid earth.

                The destruction had only begun, but already Xander could see the havoc being wreaked on Hearthome. Glass and detritus and bodies already lay in shambles across the town. Those that weren’t already dead or wounded ran away from the Rockets, clad in grey and armed with automatics. Bullets fizzed in the air, striking trainers and pokémon with random frequency.

                He stood still for a moment, gulping down the sight of everything, before remembering his mission. Raising his gun for the first time, Xander fired at a group of nearby runners, keeping his crosshairs lowered and away from any living soul.

                The grunts began to disperse from the pack, subduing trainers or raiding buildings. Xander took the opportunity to dash into a run-down shop. A woman, not much older than him, stood in fear behind a counter, her arms raised into the air.

                “Out!” Xander roared, pointing his gun at her head. She whimpered in anger and ran from the store. He locked the door behind her and sighed in relief. _“Should buy me a couple of minutes,”_ he thought.

                He briefly scanned the shop; worn, decrepit shelves stood in rows between walls that leaned forward precariously. Quakes from the invasion outside rocked the store. Xander briskly strode to the counter and relished the sight of a wooden armchair. He sat down and tossed his dark cap aside, running his hands through his coarse red hair.

                A bulge in his cargo pocket snapped him back into action. He pulled out two cellphones: a sleek, shiny black one, and a bulky blue Poké Gear. Weighing the two in his hands, Xander chucked the darker one across the room, sending a cloud of dust into the air when it hit one of the shelves.

                “I’m a goddamn fool to get myself into this shit again,” he said to himself. Flipping open his Poké Gear, he punched in a set of numbers before holding the console to his ear. The anticipation that built with each ring that sounded stabbed his eardrums like razors.

                “Yes?” answered a gruff voice on the seventh ring.

                Xander sighed in relief. “I thought that something might’ve happened to you, Commander Morawski.”

                “I should say the same about you, Lance,” said the man. “Where are you at now?”

                “I just landed with the other Rockets in Hearthome City. None of them have any suspicions, yet. They’re completely wrecking this place, though, Algernon. I can’t…“

                “Understandable,” Algernon interrupted. “No need to explain any further. But you can’t do anything, and I mean _anything,_ that will compromise your cover, do you understand me?”

                Lance chuckled. “I’ve been doing a good job of that so far, haven’t I? Where are the other Sinnoh agents, though?”

                A pause. “None of them are even close to the Oreburgh or Sunyshore bases. What’s worse is that once the Rocket Empire takes over – and they _will_ take over – there probably won’t be any way to communicate with them. They’ll all have to find safety on their own, and that includes you.”

_“Swell,”_ he thought.

                “Alright, then,” Lance said. “Will that be all, Commander?”

                “Essentially,” answered Algernon. “But please, Lance, just be careful. You’re one of the agency’s top executives, there’s no way I can afford to lose you out there.”

                He grunted. “Don’t worry about me.” He hung up the phone and sighed, turning his attention back to the chaos and destruction outside.

_“No big deal,”_ he thought. “ _This’ll just be the Lake of Rage all over again. Except there’s much more at stake this time than a Pokémon…”_


	5. The Invasion (Part One)

_November 14_

                Laina sat uncomfortably next to her partner in the van, who steered across the road haphazardly amidst panicking pedestrians and missile fire. A faint, yet unidentifiable humming noise from the rear bothered her, but she hardly noticed it. She transfixed her stare on the chaos outside, and the blood that spilled from the slaughter.

                The humming intensified, and Laina realized that it came from that kid, tied up in the back. She yelled for him to quiet down before her eyes fell on her rear view mirror.

                She saw the girl, the same one from the Pokémon Center with the other kid the day before, running after truck. A much larger man followed suit. His muscles bulged from his shirt, and vengeful determination adorned his face like war paint. The girl didn’t look older than fifteen, but a furious Mamoswine that trampled in front of her negated her youth. She raised a finger at the truck, and Laina widened her eyes in realization.

                Laina braced herself in a split-second for impact before heavy ice shards tore into the truck’s side. She and her partner were tossed around as the truck flipped over and over without end. Laina saw her partner’s face crushed between the dashboard and the wet concrete, and the rest of his body soon became mangled to bits.

                By the time the van stopped, Laina felt disoriented beyond any possibility of movement. A pool of blood welled in her mouth. She spit it all out, taking a tooth out with it.

                “Shit,” she groaned, seeing that her partner wasn’t even in the truck anymore. She heard the girl outside yell shout, “I’ll help Ash, you deal with the drivers!” and fell short.

                The thought of having to confront someone as intimidating as that bulky man sent a chilly fear down Laina’s spine, and she climbed under the leather seat of the truck just before he yanked the driver’s door open. After a quick, yet tense second, the door slammed shut.

                The adrenaline, as well as her attackers’ proximity, prevented Laina from sighing in relief. Their voices, though, boomed loud enough for her to hear:

                “…loot whatever supplies we can and go into hiding,” said the kid.

                “But what about the egg?” This voice sounded slightly deeper, and must have belonged to the bigger man.

                “OK, Brock, you go back to the Pokémon Center and get the egg,” he said, “You know the layout of the Center best. Dawn and I are going to the Poké Mart to loot food and supplies. Once you’re done, head for the woods and make sure no one’s followed you. Hide in a tree until we come for you, understand?”

                Laina struggled to contain her excitement. Not only did she know where the egg was, but she could place names to her assailants. Jasper would be pleased, she thought. They ran away from the truck, but Laina waited a few moments before limping out of the van pulling out her phone to call Jasper.

                “I swear to Arceus,” Jasper shot, “if you fucked up again I’m-“

                 “They got away,” Laina interrupted, shouting over the gunfire. “The kid and his friends, I mean. They killed my partner and demolished my truck. They’re on their way out of Hearthome, and they might have the egg with them.

                He fell silent for a moment. “Listen to me,” he said. Laina flinched at the prospect of another tedious mission. “The initial attack was successful, and hordes of ground forces are being sent in as we speak. I’m flying into Hearthome now, and I need you to meet me at the City Hall. That’s where we make our grand introduction.”

                “Shouldn’t we be focusing on the egg, first?” asked Laina.

                “Once we have everything in place, every grunt in the region will be on a manhunt for them. Wanted fugitives under accordance of the Rocket Empire, with a fifty thousand dollar bounty on their heads, dead or alive.”

                “What good are they dead? Don’t we want them alive to get the egg from them?”

                “Don’t you get it, Laina?” Jasper said, the frustration in his voice boiling over, “if we get them dead, it’s that much easier to get the egg.”

                She sighed in exasperation, weighing her head in her hand. “Alright, fine. Anything else?”

                “Oh, yeah,” Jasper said. “You’re the new Executive Head of Sinnoh, AKA the Northern Sector. I’m focusing my efforts on that egg, so you need to run things here for—“

                “Hell no! I’m just a good a leader as a rock is a psychologist! Why the hell would you do something like that?”

                “You’re not questioning my _authority_ now, are you?”

                “No, sir,” sighed Laina. “I’ll meet you at City Hall.”

                “Don’t disappoint me.”

                Jasper clicked off the phone without another word. Laina crawled out of the truck and stood, clueless, with no idea of where City Hall even was. She peered around to find the streets deserted, desolated, demolished. Concrete and body parts stirred together, turning the paved streets into a wasteland. The smell of blood and smoke poisoned the air, drew tears from her eyes.

                Armed with only her hunting knife, she ambled along the torn roads, gawking at the absence of any living souls. Not that she could do anything about them, or even had the energy to.

                After fifteen minutes of jogging, Laina approached the same wrecked truck from before. She scoffed under her breath. “ _Shit,”_ she thought. “ _Jasper’s gonna have my head on this one.”_

                She stumbled around drunkenly for a few more moments before a blunt force knocked her to the ground. Blood rushed again from her mouth, and a throbbing in her head ensued. She looked up to see the girl, the one with the Mamoswine, running away from her, a large garbage bag slung over her shoulder. Laina’s escapee sprinted alongside her.

                Laina looked down at her weary, tired limbs and knew she couldn’t give chase. They were too fast, even with all of their cargo. She shook her head and, after taking aim for the boy, flicked the knife at his back.

                As if he heard her every move, the kid turned his head to see the knife twirling in the air towards him. He and the girl sharply turned into an alley, throwing off the knife’s projection.

                Laina swore in frustration, but calmed herself when the knife slid into the girl’s forearm. “ _Take that,”_ she thought. “ _…bitch.”_

*****

                By the time Brock reached the Pokémon Center, he felt like collapsing from exhaustion. In minutes he sprinted a mile and a half, all while dodging missile fire and debris from the damaged buildings. He panted in tiredness and fear; the fresh memory of the missile that nearly took off his head still lingered. “ _But you still have a job to do,”_ he thought.

                He burst through the doors of the Pokémon Center and saw that the chaos inside was almost equal to the chaos outside. Sobs from the weak stabbed at Brock’s insides, and the nurses’ frantic faces only worried him more. Brock opened his mouth to volunteer his service, but he had to force it shut. For once, though, he had to put himself in front of others. He ran to the back of the building, flinging open the basement’s door.

                The sight of the long, twisty corridors that intertwined like a maze made Brock groan. Its pungent eminence didn’t give off the cleanest impression. He slowly walked along the main corridor, the dim, flickering lights above him his only guide. The hairs on the back of his neck tingled; he habitually checked behind his back for someone that may have been lurking.

                He stopped short when he realized that he didn’t have a clue where this egg would be. The only option would be to check every room before—

                Without a second thought, he started with the first corridor to his left. In that entire first hallway, room after room, he found nothing but linens and toiletries. The next hallway didn’t offer better prospects except for some heavy duty first aid kits, which Brock grabbed two of impulsively.

                At the first room of the third corridor, Brock met a large, metal door under a sign that read, “TESTING LABORATORY.” He raced for the door and swung it open. The room’s bright, radiating light sharply contrasted with the murkiness of the rest of the basement. Shiny, polished containment pods stood in rows and stretched as far as the eyes could see, much to Brock’s chagrin.

                “Shit,” he mumbled, reeling at the thought of searching each machine for one egg. He sighed in exasperation and began scourging the machines, ripping their opaque casings open and shoving the foreign eggs aside.

                After what seemed like three dozen broken machines, he found his egg, with its faint blue glow, in a machine in the far corner of the room. He grinned in satisfaction, tearing the hatch off of its hinges. Cradling the egg in his arms, Brock felt a heavy rock in his stomach wash away instantaneously.

                “ _It’s safe,”_ he thought. “ _No one’s taken it.”_

                Brock started on his feet, but from the opposite end of the machine he spied a slip of paper sticking out. He grabbed it out loud and read out loud:

MACHINE IDENTIFICATIOR #0036

TEST #00082785

CODEC SCAN: 0000XXXX

OPERATIVE GENE: 0

TEST RESULTS: INCONCLUSIVE

POKÉMON IDENTIFICATION: UNKNOWN

                The page ended there. Brock read it over three times, digesting the information carefully. He couldn’t decipher what a Codec Scan was, or what an Operative Gene meant. Cursing under his breath, he stuffed the slip in his pocket and ran out the door.

                He didn’t make it halfway to the door leading to the main level before he heard gunshots from above. Brock ducked habitually, then cautiously stood and pressed forward. But after twisting and turning around the maze of hallways, he felt hopelessly lost. He stood by the main stairwell, but he knew that going up there with the egg would mean suicide.

                Jogging the opposite direction, Brock finally found the emergency exit across from the stairs. He gripped the door handle and prepared to run for his life, but gunshots from the outside made him stop. He didn’t know who fired the guns, or how many of the gunmen were out there. More than likely, he’d die out there.

                Brock turned around, but another round of gunshots from the main lobby changed his mind in a heartbeat. He burst through the emergency exit, the bright light from the morning sun blinding him. He fell to his knees, clutching his eyes, groaning in pain. The gunshots still enveloped him, and he could only pray in his pain that he could live to regain his eyesight.

                He only waited for some of his sight to return before he took off. Amidst the grey and red around him, he saw the lush green forest, only a mile away. Ash’s voice rang in Brock’s head: “ _Head for the woods once you’re done, but make sure you aren’t being followed. Team Rocket wants that egg, and badly. Hide in a tree until we find you, understand?”_

                “ _They’re the ones doing this,”_ he thought. “ _Figures.”_

                 He pumped his legs even harder, stopping for nothing. Trails of smoke from deployed missiles lingered above him, settling in his eyes and clouting his sight. Large monitors on some of the buildings, which usually displayed weather or news broadcasts, either fuzzed in static or were cracked beyond operation.

                Suddenly, he slipped on a puddle of blood, and landed hard on the side of his head. A shard of glass tore against his ear, and he felt a large gash open behind the lobe. Blood began to pour out of his ear, staining the concrete around him.

                Brock stumbled to his feet, slowly recollecting his bags and egg. “ _At least this street seems empty,”_ Brock thought. “ _I would’ve died right-“_

                A flashing on one of the monitors cut his thought short. The static was replaced by three large headshots, the word “WANTED” blinking under them. Brock squinted, then took off when he saw that the headshots belonged to Ash, Dawn, and himself.

                He turned into an alley and dashed across the adjoining street. From the corner of his eye, he saw two men, both in dark grey jumpsuits, firing away from Brock. His adrenaline was pumping now; he heard nothing and felt nothing. All that stood between him and Death was the quarter-mile left until he reached the forest.

                Ducking behind an abandoned car, he paused to collect his breath, to brace himself for the final stretch. He peeked out the windshield to see the same two gunmen, running toward his direction.

                Panic outweighed reason, and Brock ran from his hiding spot and into an alley. The gunshots were directed at him now, and the possibility of dying, right here, right now, sent shots of terror through Brock.

                When he was but a block away from the green bastion of safety, he panted heavily and nearly keeled over. The gunshots behind him kept him from stopping completely. He turned to see that more of the gunmen following him. He sidestepped into an alley just after he saw the red “R” on each of their suits. The next street over was empty, for now at least. Brock weaved through the streets among cars and debris to make it harder for anyone to land a shot.

                “ _Come on Brock,_ ” he thought, “ _You’re almost there. Just a little more…yes! You made-“_

                He collapsed and fell, nearly crushing the egg in the process. His first instinct was to get up and keep running, but he decided to play dead in a bush. Wait them out.

                It worked. “He’s dead!” shouted a gunman. “Let’s move on!”

                Brock scoffed under his breath. “ _They’re still a bunch of idiots,”_ he thought, grinning slyly. The gunfire around him ceased, but Brock didn’t risk moving from his hiding spot yet. He sat unmoving for twenty minutes before bolting into the welcoming arms of the surrounding forest, leaving Hearthome City behind him.

                He trekked on until the city disappeared from sight before picking a tree to hide in. Cupping his bloody, mangled ear, he tried to quell the pain from the cut, but to no avail. By the time he found a tree large enough to conceal him, a bloodstain the size of a fully enlarged Poké Ball formed on his shoulder.

                The redwood towered at least fifty feet, its branches casting shadows that completely surrounded Brock. “ _How are Ash and Dawn supposed to find me all the way up there?”_ he thought.

                Suddenly, with a stroke of genius, he smeared a dark red “B” on the tree’s stump with his blood-moistened shirt. He had to dab at blood from his ear, which renewed the pain excruciatingly. Brock grunted and almost had to stop, but he eventually finished with a dark, yet legible “B” on the tree. “ _They should be able to know what that means,”_ he thought.

                Gripping the lowest branch, Brock climbed the tree until its prickly branches concealed him completely. He laid himself on a wide branch and slung the strap of his bag around a branch above him. A drop of blood on his arm reminded him of the first aid kits that he stole, so he grabbed it from his pack. Creams and tools and utensils and all sorts of medicines lay inside. Brock gasped to see two boxes of painkillers and one of penicillin.

                He dug through the kit for a few minutes before finding a roll of gauze bandages wedged in a corner. _“Bingo,”_ Brock thought, unrolling the bandages. He pulled out a pocket mirror from the kit and lightly touched the bandage against his wound.

                The pain intensified twenty-fold, and Brock barely managed to contain his screams. It was almost like glass dug into that same spot over and over again. He forced himself to pause, wondering how could wrap the wound without passing out from the pain. Then, he remembered the painkillers in the first aid kits.

                He fumbled with the box as he opened it, nearly crushing one of the pills when he punched it out of the foil packaging. Swallowing the pill, the bitter aftertaste left Brock cringing while he waited for the pain to alleviate.

                “ _Alright, let’s try this again,”_ thought Brock, hesitating to wrap the bandage roll around his ear. But the feeling on his ear that ensued was sensational. Better yet, the lack of feeling was what made Brock sigh in relief. Once finished, he admired his handiwork in the mirror, grinning at his neatly wrapped ear.

                “It’s the best I can do without stitches, anyways,” Brock said to himself. He shoved the first aid kit and painkillers in his bag, dug out some food and, with egg in hand, began the long wait.


	6. The Invasion (Part Two)

_November 14_

                Ash, Dawn, and Pikachu ran to the PokéMart while weaving through missile fire and debris. He thought especially of what the woman from Team Rocket had revealed to him. Her terrifyingly calm voice haunted him, even after she was gone; _This’ll be ours tomorrow. It’ll be wiped out, along with the rest of Sinnoh. Innocent lives will be lost, thousands of them. Unless you give up the egg._

                 But what about themselves? How would they survive after they went into hiding with the egg when they would be hunted by Team Rocket? Ash had resolved then to grab anything and everything he could before making haste for the forest outside of the city.

                He glanced over at Dawn once they had entered the PokéMart. They only ran about four blocks, but she was still panting from exhaustion. When they were travelling, Ash and Brock would often have to slow down for her to catch her breath. She wasn’t an asthmatic, she would insist, she just had naturally smaller lungs.

                Ash gazed at the PokéMart, which was void of people, save for a few lunatics who were taking everything they could off of the shelves. Well, that’s what he and Dawn were here to do, so maybe “lunatics” wasn’t the right word. They were more like pessimists, Ash thought, but smart ones at that.

                He spotted a box of white garbage bags and found four left in the box. He took two and handed the rest to Dawn. “Take these and fill them with as much food as you can,” he said to her. “Be sure to get enough for the Pokémon, too. Meet me at the front of the store in ten minutes. If something happens, get the hell out of here, head for the forest and we’ll meet up later. Got it?”

                Dawn nodded. “Where are you gonna go?” she asked.

                “I’m going to loot some supplies,” Ash replied. “I don’t know how long this attack is going to last, but we need to assume the worst.”

                “Be careful,” Dawn said as she ran off. Ash and Pikachu ran in the other direction, where the aisles of supplies were. When he got to the aisles, he only then realized how vast they seemed, the aisles lined with just about anything a trainer could need.  He didn’t know where to start.

                Ash tried to think of what they already had, but then figured that, since this was their last chance they would get to grab supplies, that he should move quickly but efficiently, taking only what was absolutely needed. He started with the batteries, where he shoved all kinds of batteries into his first garbage bag. It felt awkward having to hold the other garbage bag while holding the first, so he reached for his Pokémon to help him fill the other one at the same time.

                It was then that he realized the pouch in which he kept his Pokémon was gone.  Suddenly frantic, he frantically checked all of his pockets, finding his pouch in none of them. That bitch from Team Rocket must have taken them when he was out cold! Ash had lost all of his Pokémon, except for his Pikachu, who stood there in defeat alongside him.

                Ash stood still for a full moment, the reality of the situation now starting to sink in. Team Rocket had taken his Pokémon. Who knew if he’d ever see them again? No reason to think Brock was alive, either. And what was to count them out from death, either? He could be flat-out dead by the end of the day. So could Pikachu, and Brock. And Dawn.

                He couldn’t let that happen. He wouldn’t.

                He broke out of his stupor, stuffing his garbage bag with supplies faster than he had before. Flashlights, matches, hand warmers, wood axes. Anything he thought he might need he shoved into his garbage bag without a second thought. He even splurged a little, throwing in some new plastic water bottles and even a transistor radio, even though he had just bought one a few months prior.

                Ash realized that, with all of this extra stuff, he would need a new backpack or two. He spotted two new backpacks hanging neatly on the wall and threw them over his shoulder. His first garbage bag was now full, so he laid that down on the ground and began to fill his second one. He paid a little more attention now as to what he actually needed. He tossed a portable fire pit ring in first, along with some new winter jackets, since winter was coming. Pikachu was helping out, too; he grabbed supplies from the bottom shelves while Ash focused on the higher shelves.

                He reached for the pocketknives when a set of hunting knives from across the aisle had caught his eye. He fingered their sleek, blood red handles, gazing upon them as if he were a child in a candy shop. These were knives designed for no less than hunting, which usually led to killing. Animals, mostly, but would Ash ever need to use them on a human? Maybe, he decided. He threw three of them in his bag, and he took a fourth one, which he kept in his hand, should something go wrong before they left the city.

                He couldn’t think of anything else he needed, so he simply threw in anything that looked like it could be of use. _A waistbelt? Might be useful,_ thought Ash. He threw three into his bag. _Bug Spray? Definitely._ He took several bottles. _Rope?_ _Why not!_ He grabbed some off of the shelves, but before he could throw them in he heard several gunshots ring out from the front of the store.

                Ash ran for his first garbage bag, which he had thrown a few yards from him down the aisle. Pikachu, visibly frightened by the gunshots, jumped on Ash’s shoulder and hid behind his neck in fear. Ash grabbed the bag and ran for the rear of the aisle when a Team Rocket grunt, in his dull grey jumpsuit, appeared right in front of him. Out of nothing but pure fear of death, Ash rammed his knife into the grunts neck, sending a volcano of blood spewing onto Ash and the grunt.

                The grunt, eyes wide with shock, fell in his own pool of blood. He looked up at Ash, as if to ask why, before lowering his head in death, the same expression of shock forever plastered on his face. Ash looked on aghast, horrified. A few short moments ago he was worried about someone taking his life thoughtlessly, and now he had done the very same thing. But wasn’t it to save his own life? Didn’t that make it…alright?

                Before he could answer, more gunshots rang out from the other end of the store, springing Ash back into action. He left his knife in the grunt’s neck and ran for the rear of the store, hoping for a back alley. He could only hope that Dawn had thought of the same thing.

                Thankfully, she and Ash had reached the back exit at about the same time. She was horrified to see Ash covered in blood. “Shit!” she exclaimed, “did they-” she let the question hang.

                “No,” Ash breathed, as he grasped the handle of the back exit door, “I did.”

                 She said nothing as they flew out the door and down the back alley, clumsily running with their garbage bags swinging around in the air.

                As soon as they were on the city streets Ash ran full force into someone, knocking the two of them down and making him drop one of his garbage bags. He didn’t stop to help the bystander out, or even to apologize; he grabbed his bag and kept running without saying a word, only catching a glimpse of her as he ran off. He saw that the forest, the almighty solitude, lay at the end of a good mile of chaos and death.

                While they were running, he was thinking about how Dawn might not be able to run the mile or so to the forest when he realized something; he _recognized_ the face of the person that Ash had knocked down. He turned his head to have his worst fears confirmed; about two hundred yards behind them was the same woman that had kidnapped Ash, a dagger in her hand, poised and ready to throw.

                He spotted another alley to his left that led to a street that Ash knew would be filled with gunmen, but was going to have to do. “Move into the alley!” He shouted at Dawn. Ash heard her shriek in pain as they turned into the alley, and looked over at her to see a dagger stuck in her forearm.

                They skidded to a halt in the alleyway, taking refuge behind a large dumpster that smelled of rotten eggs. Dawn stared in disbelief at her gushing wound, tears of pain rolling down her face. Ash popped his head back into the street to see if that woman was following them, which she thankfully wasn’t.  He turned back to Dawn’s wound, which was still excreting blood.

                “We need to find something to cover that up,” he said, trying to keep the hysteria out of his voice. He and Dawn both searched frantically through their backpacks as well as their garbage bags for anything that they could use to treat the wound.  Ash had to help Dawn with this, since she only had one usable arm. They both looked defeated when their search came up with nothing.

                Ash was determined, however, to keep Dawn away from any harm. Seeing as he had already failed, he felt that it was responsibility to make sure that the pain was lessened. He ripped off a long piece of his shirt and tied it around Dawn’s arm, above the wound, which still had the knife inserted. Ash thought that the knife might be stopping some of the bleeding, so he thought it best to leave it in her arm. Not best treatment in the world, but it would have to do.

                 It didn’t quite calm Dawn down, however. “Ash,” cried Dawn, still trying to hold back tears, “what do we do now?!” She raised her voice to a near scream. “I don’t wanna di—“

                “Shush!” hissed Ash, “I’m gonna get you out of here!” Dawn quieted down after that, but still stifled her fearful sobs. Ash’s mind was racing, thinking of a way that they could get out of the city alive. They could’ve used the same street that the woman who threw the knife had been on, but he didn’t want to risk her being on that street still. Who knew if she had a gun? The other street was obviously unsafe, due to the gunmen.

                He thought of his Pokémon, which would have been a great help in a situation like this, provided he still had them of course. He still had Pikachu, but he alone wouldn’t be able to get all three of them to safety. But what about Dawn’s Pokémon?

                “Dawn, I need your Pokémon,” said Ash. Dawn handed him her pouch that held her Poké Balls. He fumbled around in the pouch, trying to find the Poké Balls labeled TOGEKISS and CYNDAQUIL. When he finally found them, he released the two from their Poké Balls. The two pokémon seemed startled by the gunfire that was surrounding them, but became even more so when they saw Dawn’s wound, the dagger still lodged in her arm.

                “OK, guys, listen to me,” Ash said to them, “Dawn’s hurt really badly, and we need to get out of the city. But I need your help to do it.” He turned to Togekiss. “You’re gonna fly us out, but I also need you to use Protect, so that Dawn doesn’t get hurt further, OK?”

                Togekiss looked determined. “To-Kiss!” she chanted.

                Ash turned to Cyndaquil. “Cyndaquil, I want you to use Swift to keep the bad guys from hurting Dawn and us. You think you can handle that?”

                Cyndaquil looked apprehensive, but determined nonetheless.  “Cyn-da!” he said, with an edge of nervousness in his voice.

                “Good,” Ash said, suddenly filled with self-confidence. “Dawn, climb on Togekiss’s back. Everyone else, do the same.  We’re gonna make for the forest, then get as far away from the city as we can,” Ash said, suddenly remembering Brock. They climbed on Togekiss wordlessly, which weighed him down somewhat, yet he was still able to remain airborne.

                “Togekiss, use Protect!” Ash commanded. Togekiss emitted a neon purple aura that barely encircled Ash, Pikachu, Dawn, and her Pokémon, as well as their loot. “Alright, Togekiss, once we get going, don’t stop!”

                “Tog Tog!” Togekiss said in understanding.

                “Alright, let’s roll!”

                 Togekiss rolled forward out of the alley, rising majestically higher and higher into the air. They pushed forward at about twenty miles an hour, eventually topping off at about eighty feet in the air, all while going unnoticed by the Rocket gunmen below them, who focused on the other  fleeing trainers.

                Cyndaquil and Pikachu eyed the gunmen cautiously, waiting to attack when the time came. Dawn did nothing but look down frightfully as she lightly held her arm, the one with the dagger still in it. Togekiss continued to fly majestically, and they were already a quarter of the way to the forest, still having gone unnoticed by anyone. Ash was ecstatic. Could they really just fly out of the city as easy as this? It seemed too good to be true.

                It was. One of the gunmen must have seen Togekiss’s shadow flying past them, because the next thing Ash knew one of the gunmen was shouting, “There he is!” and a barrage of bullets pelted the protective wall that surrounded them. They bounced off of the protective shield with a _ping_ , the shield flickering lightly with each bullet impact.

                “Cyndaquil, use Swift!” Ash shouted over the gunfire. Cyndaquil unleashed a Swift barrage, knocking down several of the gunmen. Pikachu wanted to help, but knew that using any kind of a thunder attack would risk breaking the immaterial protective wall that spared them from death. Togekiss pushed forward at full speed towards the forest now.

                Dawn screamed in fright. “This shield can’t keep us from getting killed for long!” she shouted, “It’s already weakening!”

                They were halfway to the forest now, but Dawn was right, their protective wall was beginning to falter. “Move to the left if you can, Togekiss!” shouted Ash, who clung for dear life on Togekiss’s horn. She wordlessly moved very slightly to the left. Ash could tell her stamina was running low, since she was also losing speed and altitude. Her protective wall continued to weaken too; by now it was barely visible. Who knew how much longer it could last against the bullets?

                “Alright, Togekiss, make a sharp dive into the forest!” commanded Ash.

                “Tooo….” grunted Togekiss, who looked about ready to faint from exhaustion. She began her descent into the forest, but it was more of a free fall than a descent. She had to use all of her remaining strength to even remain level.

                “Everyone hang on!” screamed Ash, giving up all effort to keep calm. Dawn and Pikachu clutched Togekiss’s other horn, nearly crushing it as they did so. The descent grew steeper and steeper; at the rate they were going, Ash figured, they’d land on solid ground about ten feet into the forest. They screamed in horror as they blasted their way down to earth, gunshots still colliding with their nearly-dead protective wall.

                Their protective wall dissolved completely at least two seconds before breaking through the wall of trees that made up the edge of the forest. Branches from the trees were hitting them as they continued to tumble down to earth. Togekiss crash landed on a patch of hard-packed dirt, sending everyone flying off of her and landing hard on the ground beside her.

                Dawn, who had thankfully landed on her good arm, immediately called Togekiss back to her Poké Ball. She pulled out Cyndaquil’s Poké Ball to do the same, but she couldn’t find him.

                She looked behind her to see Ash, speechless and still, standing over Cyndaquil. Dawn ran over to him to see what the matter was. What she saw made her wish she hadn’t.

                Cyndaquil lay on the ground in his own pool of blood, several gunshot wounds littering its body.

                “Oh, God!” Dawn exclaimed, unable to contain her emotion, “Cyndaquil, I’m so sorry!” She contined to weep over Cyndaquil’s failing body. Cyndaquil turned his head and used the last of his strength to issue toward them a single look of hatred. Whether it was hatred at Dawn for letting him die, hatred at Team Rocket for causing his death, or simply hatred at the cruel and unfair world was anyone’s guess, but it was undeniable that his look of hatred was pure and seething. He fluttered his eyes shut and breathed his last.

                Dawn knelt there, shocked. Once his action had registered with Dawn, she broke out in heavy, uncontrollable sobs. She drove her fists into the ground, punching it in hard anger. What was it that he died for, anyways? So they could run for their lives while he gets shot?

                 Next to her, Pikachu cried next to Dawn, sad that he had lost one of his friends to such mindless violence. Ash simply stood behind her emotionlessly, staring at his body, unable to look away. She didn’t even pay any attention to the gunshots that still echoed from the city. So what if they killed her here?

                She eventually felt a gentle hand on her shoulder. She turned to see Ash standing above, her, a grim expression on his face, a deep sadness in his eyes. “C’mon, we gotta get going.”


	7. Raised Stakes

_November 14_

                Laina didn’t know how long it took her to finally reach City Hall, but Jasper’s cross face told her it must have been a while. She spotted him talking to some other Rocket executive when he saw her, and his look immediately reddened. He strode toward Laina, arms swinging stiffly. He struck her hard on the side of her face, knocking her to the ground as she yelped in pain.

                “Where the hell were you?” he shouted, lifting her from the ground by the neck, “I’ve been waiting for an hour for you to show up!” His face turned a dark shade of red, twisted every which way as he struggled to contain his anger.

                “I-I-I-I’m sorry!” she whimpered, “I was lost and hurt and…and…”

                “No excuses, Laina!” Jasper barked, “I’m supposed to count on you! How can I do that if you can’t even find your way?” He noticed the cuts and bruises on her body. “How’d you get those?” he asked in a repressed calm, “and where’s your satchel?”

                Laina glanced at her wounds. “Oh, you know…survived a truck crash that my men didn’t, got knocked down by the kid that I captured, I was hit by my boss…same old, same old.” she said sarcastically.

                “Very funny. And your bag?”

                “I left it in the truck when it crashed,” said Laina. “All I took was my knife.”

                “Did you really?” asked Jasper with a hint of sarcasm, “I don’t see it on you.”

                Laina breathed deeply. “I ran into that kid I captured, and-“

                “Ash?” Jasper interrupted.

                Laina frowned. How did he know his name? “He and his little girl friend knocked me down. I tried to kill him, but she took the knife to her arm instead. They got away.” She grimly cast her eyes to the bloodied concrete.

                “Ah, yes,” said Jasper, looking equally grim, “as it turns out, they’re pretty… _dangerous_. Let me show you the surveillance footage.” He led Laina into the City Hall building, stepping over debris and bodies as they did so. When they walked in the building, the sight didn’t improve. The gunmen executed their job perfectly – _too_ perfectly. Several bodies, those of city officials, lay across the floor in pools of blood.

                “Arceus,” she breathed.

*****

                Xander sat on a bench in City Hall, scratching at his tufts of red hair under his disguise. He gingerly pretended to clean the barrel of his gun. His sack, the dark, standard issue within the Empire, lay at his feet. An overwhelming urge to check on his hidden Pokémon, to see if they were still there, almost overcame him, but he resisted.

                “You can do that later,” he thought, “when you’re not around the others.” He glanced at the Grunt sitting next to him, who stared into space.

                He lost focus on the gun and scanned the building’s interior once more. Scores of Rocket Grunts paced around rapidly, setting up computers and laboratory equipment. Paintings that hung on the wall were lifted off of their hinges and hauled away. Bodies of city officials that lay on the ground were dragged unceremoniously to a corner, blood trails streaking behind them. The white, squeaky clean tiled floor gradually turned a dark red, stained with the innocents’ blood. Black flags sporting that Rocket Empire’s insignia slowly rose up the highest walls, tacked on by grunts mounted on a herd of Crobats.

                The sights seemed all too familiar to Xander, but he felt sick nonetheless. He repressed the bile in his throat from surfacing, swallowing it and grimacing in disgust.

                “…see that young’un I shot?” a grunt boomed from the other end of the room. Xander turned and saw the purely evil pride on his face. “He couldn’t even react before—“

                Xander brushed him aside and slowly slid his pack onto his lap. The grunt next to him dozed off, he noticed. After making sure, once more, that no one looked in his direction, he snapped it open and peeked inside.

                All four of his Pokémon rested on the top, the chrome metal of their Poke Balls glinting in Xander’s eyes. He sighed lightly in relief before digging deeper. His clothes, the ones he hadn’t been able to wear in ages, lay folded sloppily at the bottom. Above them rested his Poké Gear and an assortment of seemingly empty Poké Balls.

_“Everything’s still here,”_ he thought, cracking a paper thin grin.

                “…and that horde of Bidoof were sitting ducks!” boasted the same grunt. Xander frowned in annoyance, pushing his tongue against a silver piercing on his palate. He set the bag back down by his feet, eyeing his adversaries.

                “I can’t hide within these guys much longer,” he thought, the beads of sweat trickling down his nose slowly. “Today’s the first day they’ve seen me in action, sooner or later they’re bound to figure out who I—“

                “…but even better was the baby Bonsly that-“

                “Shut up!”

                Everyone in City Hall fell silent.

                “Just shut up!” Xander shouted, standing up. “How can you brag about the people and Pokémon that you’ve killed? Is that what you’re really about?” He tried in vain to hide the fear and anger in his voice.

                The front door burst open, and Xander gasped a little inside. Jasper stood in the doorway, eyeing him down suspiciously.

                “There’s a bigger task at hand, you know! We have to remember our mission at hand! Don’t boast about the men you’ve killed, plan out the men that you will kill!”

                The grunt said nothing, nodding at him awkwardly before sitting down. Xander didn’t look back to Jasper, but could still see the smirk of satisfaction on his face.

*****

                Jasper grinned in pride at the grunt, who stared him down with brevity before turning away. The others went back to work hurriedly, not wanting to attract Jasper’s wrath.

                “I like that one,” Jasper said to Laina.

                Jasper strode over to a set of monitors mounted on the wall, punching in some code that Laina didn’t understand. “Here’s the footage we pulled from the PokéMart at about 9 AM this morning.”

                Laina stared at the monitor and absorbed the footage. Ash and a Pikachu, presumably his, were in the PokéMart, running down an aisle when a gunman stepped in his way. Her mouth gaped he whipped out a knife and stabbed the gunman in the neck, killing him as they ran off of the shot.

                “You wouldn’t think that he had it in him,” said Laina, shell-shocked. That kid could’ve killed him today, she realized with a shudder. “Any footage of his friends?”

                “Not of the girl,” said Jasper, going back to the computer, “but we were able to pull one still shot of his other friend.” He punched in more code, which revealed a grainy picture of Ash’s friend, running away from, well, something. Laina studied the picture intensely, taking in all of its detail. A few gunmen, which by now had run their course in the city, appeared in the shot. She groaned at the sight of the egg cradled under his arm.

                “Do we have any other information on them?” Laina asked.

                “From what a few of the grunts told me, they killed the bigger one. I’m not so sure though, since they haven’t found his body or the egg that he had. We printed out the wanted posters, though.” He handed her a large sheet of paper, which had the faces of the three trainers blown up with a caption that read:

** WANTED **

These trainers, known as Ash Ketchum (age 18), Brock Harrison (age 20),

        And Dawn Berlitz (age 17), are wanted for crimes of theft and murder

Against the Rocket Empire. These three were last seen in Hearthome City on

November 14, 2082, and are known to be on the run. The reward for

information leading to the capture of these fugitives is 50,000 dollars,

DEAD OR ALIVE. They are considered extremely dangerous and, if seen,

should be immediately reported to your nearest Rocket official.

**LONG LIVE THE EMPIRE**

Laina returned the poster to Jasper when one of the Rocket grunts ran up to her and said, “Laina, it’s time for the propaganda announcement. We’re gonna…well, _you’re_ gonna basically reveal who we are to everyone and what we plan on doing. Almost like a press release.” He grinned.

                “I’ll meet you up at the Radio Station in a few,” she said. The grunt walked off as she turned to Jasper. “What do you plan on doing about these kids?” she asked.

                “I plan on sending several search parties, one of which I will be leading,” Jasper replied.

                “Jasper, listen,” she said, struggling to keep the fear from her voice, “I know you think finding these kids will be a piece of cake, but you need to be careful. One of them killed a grunt today, and he’ll kill you if you don’t watch yourself!”

                “I refuse to let myself be intimidated by some kid who’s killed one guy. Look at all the people we’ve killed today!”

                “Jasper, you’re not listening!” cried Laina, fed up with Jasper’s hardheadedness. “We killed defenseless people, who weren’t prepared. This kid is armed, and you won’t be able to take him down without a fight, one that I’m not sure he’d lose in. Please, promise me you’ll be careful!”

                Jasper let out an exasperated sigh. “I’ll be careful,” he said, letting out a smile, “but we’ll have caught and killed him and taken his egg in a week, tops. Besides, I haven’t even picked my party, yet!”

                He took a quick look around the room before his eyes settled on the man from earlier, the one who yelled at the grunt. He sat on a bench, staring outside a window with deep curiosity.

                “I want that one,” he said. Without another word to Laina, he strode over to the grunt, shoving aside stragglers silently.

                “Hey, you,” he said to the man.

                The grunt looked up and gulped at the sight of his superior. “Yes?”

                “Wanna tell me your name?”

                “Xander Fletcher,” he mumbled. “What do you want?”

                “I’m – well, the Empire, that is, is on the hunt for a group of teenagers. They’ve taken something that we want, and we’re gonna get it.”

                “What is it that we want, ex—“ Xander began, but Jasper held up his hand to silence him. The executive unfolded a slip of paper and handed it to him.

                “These are the kids that we’re after,” Jasper said.

                Xander grew pale the moment he laid eyes on the poster. His eyes quickly scanned the text, his mouth gaping open with each word that he read.

“You’re going after Ash K-Ketchum?” 

                Jasper frowned. “Don’t be so scared, private. He’s nothing compared to us. Hell, maybe when he’s begging for mercy I’ll give you the kill!”

                Xander clenched his fist, crushing the poster. “Right. When do we leave?”

                “In a few hours. Make sure you’re ready.” Jasper left without another word, leaving behind the man with a new mission.

*****

                Ash fiddled with the dial on the transistor radio, trying to find any kind of a radio signal as Dawn slowly sorted through their newly obtained supplies. Neither of them spoke much since they left the city, just hissing Brock’s name every so often in an attempt to locate him. Dawn wept gently over Cyndaquil’s death. Ash, on the other hand, didn’t know who to be mad at. They trekked around the border of Hearthome City for five hours now, keeping the city just within their sights, before finally stopping to rest for a few minutes.

                He looked over at Dawn’s arm wound. The bleeding ceased, but the dagger still stuck out jaggedly.

                “We can’t leave that in there,” Ash mumbled, breaking the seemingly eternal silence that separated them, “it’ll get infected. Once we find Brock he’ll have to-“

                “How do you know we’ll find him?” Dawn snapped, struggling to hold back tears, “How do you know he isn’t dead in the city, like everyone else?”

                To be honest, Ash had no idea whether Brock survived the invasion. But he wasn’t about to let Dawn know that. “Because he’s smart enough to get out on his own,” he said. “I’m sure he’s fine.” He sent her a reassuring, yet false smile, which Dawn didn’t return.

                “OK, then,” said Dawn, looking down to the ground, “say he did make it out alive. What if he’s hurt? He might’ve been shot or hit by shrapnel or-“

                “Well if he did, he’d know how to take care of himself. He’s practically a human ambulance, you know that!”

                “Well how are we ever gonna find him then?!” Dawn exclaimed, “he’s in one tree in miles of forest, do you know how long it’s gonna take to search through every tree within a mile radius of the city to find him, assuming he’s even alive?” She burst into tears, releasing the stress and exhaustion that the day brought.

                Ash couldn’t speak; she _did_ have a point, after all. He told Brock to hide in a tree once he made it out of the city; who knew where his tree was, or how far it was from the city, or even if he made it out of the city at all.

                He went to Dawn and awkwardly put his arm around her, trying to offer any means of consolation. “It’s gonna take a couple of days, you’re right. But we _will_ find him. He’ll be fine on his own. Until then, we just have to keep looking, alright?” He shot her another smile or reassurance, which she saw with a reluctant grin. “Good. Come on, we should keep moving.”

                “Can you take it off?” Dawn said suddenly. “The shirt, I mean. I can’t stand looking at that bloodstain.”

                Ash didn’t take the shirt off, but grabbed the stolen jacket from the garbage bag and put that on over it. “If it reminds you of the grunt that I killed, then-“

                “Don’t!” screamed Dawn, covering her ears. “I don’t want to talk about it!”

                “No, we need to talk,” said Ash, gently removing Dawn’s hands from her ears. “I didn’t do it out of malice. It was to protect us.” Dawn looked at him coldly. “If I hadn’t, he would’ve killed me, and you wouldn’t have survived either.”

                “But why kill him?” Dawn asked.

                Ash sighed. “Spur of the moment. He just showed up, and-“

                “And you killed him, that’s what.” Dawn interrupted.  “I’m not sure I can look at you the same way knowing you did that.”

                Ash growled furiously at Dawn’s shallowness. “Well, if I hadn’t, you wouldn’t be looking at me at all!” he shouted. Dawn burst into tears again, and his anger faded at Dawn’s sadness. “Sorry, but it’s the truth. But I’m not some cold-hearted killer now, OK? I’m still me, even if I am a murderer. Nothing’s changed about me at all.”

                Dawn turned to Ash, her face an expressionless stone. “Don’t act like today hasn’t changed you. You can’t just see what happened today, just go through it all and not help but think, Why? So don’t pretend you’re not thinking about it because, like it or not, you are.” She looked at her watch. “Let’s keep looking,”

                Ash wordlessly got up and began walking beside Dawn, toying with the knob on the radio as he went. He persisted in trying to find a signal, but only found static. A stray tree branch, oblivious to Ash, tripped him, making him fall on his face and sending the radio flying. He cursed, standing up and brushing the dirt from his face.

                “You’re never gonna find any signal from that thing,” scoffed Dawn, “every station in the region is probably down.”

                But the radio, which survived the landing and lay on a soft patch of dirt about twenty feet away, was no longer broadcasting crude static, but an old man’s voice. Ash began to listen as he plucked it from the ground.

                “…..not sure exactly what happened today, but the casualties in Pastoria City are believed to be in the thousands. We…we now have an unconfirmed report that all Gym Leaders are missing, presumed dead.”

                Ash and Dawn sat down by a tree trunk, lowering the volume on the radio. Pikachu sat on Ash’s lap, staring at the radio curiously.

                “For those of you just joining us,” the radio droned, “we’re currently trying to piece together the details of exactly what happened across the region today. From what we’ve gathered, the region has been attacked from an unidentified external terrorist force. Other details are scarce, so please bear with us while we—”

                The broadcast cut to static, leaving Ash and Dawn cut off from the outside world yet again. Ash was about to turn the radio off, but before he could reach for the switch the broadcast returned, but this time it was a young woman who was speaking.

                “Greetings!” boomed the voice. Ash immediately recognized it as the voice of the woman that kidnapped him last night, and he immediately filled with anger. “This is Laina Woodwright, of the Rocket Empire. I am your new Executive Head of the Northern Sector of the Empire, which you have formerly known as Sinnoh.”

                Ash looked over at Dawn, who gave nothing but a curious frown to the radio. The radio, meanwhile, continued its broadcast. “We come to Sinnoh with a new age of prosperity, for both humans and Pokémon alike! Equality will be brought to this ravaged land, trainers will be no more!”

                “Bullshit!” Ash and Dawn both screamed.

                “Pik _aaa_ ” growled Pikachu, sensing their anger.

                “Trainers have brought nothing to this land but abuse and anger to Pokémon, wild and trained alike.” continued Laina. “We promise to care for these Pokémon and bring down the wrath of trainers everywhere!”

                “By killing thousands of innocent people?!” Dawn yelled to the radio, as if it were listening to her.

                “There are trainers out there who are spoken of as legends, but are nothing but monsters.” Laina said, “and we wish to eliminate those very monsters. Take, for example, Ash Ketchum, who’s wanted by the Rocket Empire for theft and murder.”

                “ _Exactly what did I take from them_?” Ash wondered to himself. “ _Sure, they have me for murder, but theft?”_

                “If you spot Ash or either of his accomplices, contact your nearest Rocket official.” Laina paused. “And, of course, long live the empire!” The broadcast turned to static once more, but this time the broadcast never returned.

                The obvious reality finally sank in. They were wanted fugitives; the entire region was now on a manhunt for them. They wouldn’t be able to show their face again. Dawn and Pikachu must have realized the same thing, because they both had similar looks of defeat on their face.

                Ash sighed. “Alright, let’s go,” he said, standing up as Pikachu jumped off of his lap.

                “Can’t we just stay here for the night?” Dawn asked, “I mean, it’s almost sundown, and we’re no safer here than anywhere else.”

                He looked at his watch. 5:12 PM. “Might as well,” said Ash, setting his bags down on the ground. “Why don’t you go find some kindling for a fire? I’ll break some branches for firewood.”

                Dawn walked off to find some kindling while Ash took a wood axe from one of his bags and began breaking down branches for firewood. Pikachu, in his boredom, chased his tail in a dog-like fashion. Ash burst into giggles, laughing for the first time in days.

                She came back with a handful of kindling that she laid down in a neat pile on the ground. “Is this enough?” she asked, brimming with pride. She noticed Ash’s scarcity of gathered firewood. “If that’s all you found, then this’ll be plenty!” she said sarcastically

                “Sorry,” said Ash sheepishly, “I was distracted. Do me a favor and take the fire pit ring out of the bag.” She did so while Ash went back to chopping branches for firewood. The silence that had temporarily vanished returned with greater magnitude as they silently went about their work. The only sound that could be heard was the sound of the wood axe crunching against branches.

                “I want to cremate him.” Dawn blurted.

                 Ash looked at her, confused, before realizing that she was talking about Cyndaquil. Ash, as sad as he was about his death, had forgotten about him in the past few hours. They had returned his body to his Poké Ball once they left, and promised to do something about him later, in their minds at least.

                “Cremation?” asked Ash, “why cremation? Can’t we just bury him?”

                “It just feels….” trailed Dawn, trying to find the right word. “Fitting.” She said finally. “He was a fire-type, after all.

                “I guess you’re right. In that case, I’ll have Inferna-“he said, stopping when he remembered that his Pokémon were gone. He gave a sheepish sigh.

                “What’s wrong?” Dawn asked.

                “My Pokémon,” Ash replied, “they’re gone. All of them.” Dawn gave him an apologetic look, which he waved off. “I have matches,” he said as he grabbed some out of his bag. He struck one and threw it into the pile of kindling, which Ash had laid firewood on top of. The fire grew slowly, but eventually became large enough to provide a light source, since it had grown much darker.

                “OK, so exactly how are we gonna do this?” asked Ash.

                “The only way we can,” replied Dawn. She took out Cyndaquil’s Poké Ball and tossed it into the center of the fire. The Poké Ball was flame retardant, but Ash and Dawn knew that within minutes his body would be nothing but a pile of ash.

                Dawn pretended not to care, but Ash knew that she mourned inside. They both stared into the fire, watching the flames burn around the Poké Ball. Ash thought about how much Dawn loved her Cyndaquil, who always bounced with energy, and let out a single tear. “ _I’m sorry, Cyndaquil,”_ thought Ash, “ _I’m sorry. This is all my fault.”_

                After about ten minutes, the night became chillier and the winds stronger, and a particularly strong gust blew the fire out completely. The smoking Poké Ball hissed in the middle of a pile of dead wood, providing the only color in a pit of blackness.

                “One thing left to do,” said Ash. He used two sticks to pick up the Poké Ball from the pit and let it cool in his bottle of water. After a few minutes, he removed the Poké Ball, dumped out the water and opened up the Poké Ball. Sure enough, all that remained inside was a heaping pile of ash, which made Dawn visibly sick. As she retched behind a tree, Ash took a deep breath and flung the Poké Ball into the night, the ash flying away in the wind. The emptied Poké Ball landed with a _clink_ in the distance. Ash thought it better not to retrieve it. He turned his back to walk away when an _ACHOO_ from the trees made him freeze in his tracks.


	8. Escape Plan

_November 14_

                Brock heard the boy long before he saw him. He heard him panting from several hundred feet away, footsteps pounding onto the earth as he ran. Brock heard him break into the clearing directly under his tree, then stop. From the sound of it, he was resting directly under Brock’s tree.

                Having no idea who it was, he slowly pulled back a branch so that there was just enough space for him to see through the tree. He saw that it was a boy who looked about Dawn’s age, but with Brock’s stature and build. They almost looked like twins, in fact.

                “ _He doesn’t look threatening,”_ thought Brock, _“should I befriend him?”_ Brock didn’t immediately answer the question, but spied on the boy to see if he did anything out of the ordinary.

                He sat down under Brock’s tree and sipped at a bottle of water. Brock went unnoticed by him, which Brock preferred. The kid looked jittery, jumping at every little noise that the forest offered to him. He fidgeted with a Pokétch, scrambling with the buttons before he pulled up the map of Sinnoh. After studying it for a few moments, he stood up and began to walk off.

                Brock thought it best not to reach out to him. He didn’t know that he could trust the boy, so he thought it better that he not attract attention to him. He watched him walk away when a bush to the boy’s right suddenly gave a tremble. The boy darted his head toward the sound only to meet a shotgun shell to the face, killing him instantly.

                Brock quickly retreated behind the cover of his tree, having to clasp his hand over his mouth to stifle his scream of shock. “ _Did that really just happen?”_ thought Brock, his mind racing, _“did he just get shot? No, this can’t be real!”_

                Unfortunately, cries of “He’s dead!” and “Take his stuff!” confirmed that this was indeed very, very real. Hardly daring to even breathe, he slowly pilled back a branch, as he had done before, to see if he could catch a glimpse of the shooter.

                He was met with not one, but five men, all wearing identical gray jumpsuits, rummaging through the dead boy’s knapsack about twenty yards from his tree. Besides two of them scuffling over the boy’s Pokétch, they were silent as they emptied his sack. Brock watched them carefully as the scuffle between the two men escalated into a full out fist fight. The other three men attempted to break up the fight, but quickly moved out of the way when one of the fighters whipped out a pistol and shot the other fighter dead before being shot himself by one of the other grunts.

                Brock gasped when the men fell dead, and again when he caught a glimpse of a blazing red “R”, not unlike the “B” he had smeared on his tree, on the chest of one of the men. The egg, tucked under his arm, was quickly slipping from his grip. Just as the egg left his grip completely, he made a wild grab for the falling egg, successfully catching it but whacking his arm on a tree branch in the process.

                The branch rustled, knocking into a few other branches as it did so. Brock saw the grunts look his way, obviously having been alarmed by the noise. Brock sat there, unmoving. Were they staring at him, or at the tree itself? Brock didn’t know, but he didn’t want to.

                Eventually, one of the grunts said, “It was probably just another Starly. Don’t waste your ammo.” The other grunts wordlessly went back to looting from the dead kid as Brock gave a silent sigh of relief. He felt like Death had stared him down, but passed him off as scrap.

                The grunts eventually walked off, and Brock was left in the tree with the dead kid and the dead grunts nearby. He didn’t move just yet; those grunts could still be nearby. He went back to waiting on his branch, in the exact position as before.

This time around, the waiting seemed much more irritating. Unlike before the shooting, he had been content with waiting around all day, but now it was almost unbearable. With each passing moment he wiled Ash and Dawn to come for him, so that he would at least have something to do.

                His mind went back to the dead kid, and the grunts as well. Sure, the grunts were on Team Rocket’s side, but their deaths were not deserved, at least not yet. “ _Maybe I should do something with their bodies”_ , he thought, but he waved the thought away; he wouldn’t be able to bury them, so nothing was to be done.

                “ _May their souls rest eternally in the afterlife, wherever and whatever that may be,”_ thought Brock. That simple prayer was the best he could do, but in a way he felt like it was the best thing anyone could do.

*****

                When Brock woke up, everything was dark.” _Am I dead?”_ thought Brock, “ _did someone kill me in my sleep?_ ” Brock didn’t know, and fear began to seize him. What if he was dead, and Ash and Dawn were left on their own? They’d be searching for him for days, weeks even, but they’d never find him. What if they died while finding him? What if they were already dead?

                Slowly, his eyes began to adjust to the darkness, and he nearly cried in relief when he saw that he was in the same tree as before, and was not in fact dead. A cool wind blew through his hair, and a newfound chill ran through Brock’s body. He wanted so desperately to grab his sleeping bag from his frame backpack, but didn’t chance moving around just yet; anyone could still be within hearing distance from Brock’s tree.

                To his right he noticed a glowing light about eighty yards off. Someone must have made a fire, but Brock didn’t hear any voices, just the crackling of the fire. He observed the fire nonchalantly, trying to catch any glimpse of who had made it, but was unable to do so. He thought he saw a red tint in the fire, but didn’t think anything of it.

                As quickly as he noticed the fire, a strong gust of wind put the fire out, leaving him in the dark. Brock heard a voice mumbling, but couldn’t make out what they said, or who said it. After this followed more silence, and Brock thought that whoever had lit the fire had walked off. He closed his eyes to go back to sleep, but a violent, retching sound woke him once again. He was going to poke his head out of the tree to see who it was, but he felt some sort of dust sprinkle itself across the tree as well as his face.

                The dust smelled of burnt ash, and got caught in Brock’s nose. He could feel a sneeze coming on. “ _Oh shit,”_ thought Brock, “ _please don’t sneeze, please don’t-“_

_ACHOO!_

Brock froze in place, hardly daring to move. Had anyone heard him? Even if they had, would they confront him?

                The retching had stopped by now, and a faint “What was that?” could be heard. Brock could tell the voice was a girl’s, but he couldn’t tell whose it was.

                “Get back” hissed another voice. Brock couldn’t tell whether this second voice belonged to a boy or a girl. Brock was forced to hold in his breath, out of danger of being heard by whoever was under his tree. Brock could hear a pair of feet crunching the leaves that were under his tree, and he realized that whoever was down there was now at the base of the tree.

                In a move that, to Brock, may have been suicide, he slowly peeled back a branch of the tree to see if he could identify who was down there. Sure enough, he saw a dark silhouette, kneeling down by his tree. _Why are they kneeling?”_ thought Brock. But then the figure below turned on a flashlight and pointed it at the tree to reveal the bloody “B” in the light.

                The figure stood unmoving, their flashlight still aimed at the “B”. Brock felt as if he would pass out from lack of air, since he didn’t risk breathing in case it might be audible. Suddenly, the bright beam from the flashlight was pointed directly at Brock, blinding him completely. He flinched backwards, making him fall off of the branch and down to earth.

                Brock felt himself crashing through the concealment of the tree and landing hard on the figure, knocking the wind out of Brock as he heard a girl screaming. “ _Is that Dawn?”_ thought Brock, as the figure wedged himself out from under Brock, and soon towered over him while Brock was still on the ground, the light pointed at his face.

                “Brock?”

                “ _Was that Ash’s voice?”_ thought Brock, who was just now beginning to stand up.

                “Brock!” repeated the voice, as Brock felt a pair of arms wrap around him in an embracing hug. The light from the flashlight reveal a slightly bloody, but otherwise unharmed Ash, with Dawn running up to them from behind.

                “Are you alright?” asked Ash after he ended their reunion hug. “Do you have the egg?”

                “Yeah, I’m fine,” replied Brock, “and so is the egg. How about you guys?”

                “I’m fine,” said Ash, his voice darkening with each word he spoke, “but Dawn’s not. I’ll explain later. Come on, help us make another fire.” Brock climbed his tree again to get his stuff before following Ash back to their campsite, which consisted of a single fire pit.

                “You can’t use your Pokémon?” asked Brock.

                “No,” said Ash, “mine are gone. All of them. Pikachu’s all I got.”

                “Oh, man,” said a disheartened Brock, “I’m sorry. But what about Cyndaquil?”

                “Dead.” was Ash’s sole reply.

                “Dead?!” Brock asked incredulously, “but how did he-“

                “I’ll explain later. I don’t want Dawn to get upset again.” said Ash.

                He set his stuff down, and then pulled from his backpack a flint igniter, which he used to re-kindle Ash’s fire. The new glow from the fire was bright enough to reveal Brock’s ear wound to Ash and Dawn, and Dawn’s arm wound to Brock.

                “What happened?!” all three of them screamed simultaneously.

                “You first,” said Ash, the worry beginning to mount in his voice.

                “I fell and got cut,” He quietly mumbled, “and her wound?”

                Ash returned his sigh before saying, “She got stabbed by the same woman that kidnapped me. She nearly got me with it, though. But seriously, we should re-wrap that ear, it-”

                “Never mind me,” interrupted Brock, “we need to get that knife out of her arm, now.” He dug around in his backpack until he found the bottle of painkillers and tossed it to Dawn. “Take one of these,” said Brock, “it’ll help with the pain. I’ll make some dinner.”

                Ash relished at the thought of food; he just realized that none of them had had any food today. He watched as Dawn handed Brock a can of broth as Brock pulled out his pot from his backpack. Dawn swallowed her painkiller with a small choke, having to force it down her throat.

                When the broth finished boiling, Brock evenly distributed it into four bowls and handed three of them to Ash, Dawn, and Pikachu. The other Pokémon would have to wait for their food, thought Brock, but they’d be fine for a while in their Poké Balls.  All four of them gulped down the broth in almost no time flat, not even caring that the hot broth was scalding their throats with each gulp. Ash felt like he had never tasted anything more delicious in his life, even though Brock served Chicken Broth at least once a week.   

                “Alright,” said Brock, “now to remove that knife.” Dawn looked apprehensive at the thought of the knife coming out of her arm. “Don’t worry,” chuckled Brock at the sight of her nervousness, “that’s what the painkiller was for. It won’t hurt as much that way.”

                “Whatever you’re gonna do, do it quick, OK?” said Dawn, who was squeamish despite Brock’s reassurance.

                “Of course,” replied Brock, walking over to Dawn with a roll of bandages. “On the count of three, I’m going to quickly pull out the knife, okay?”

                Dawn nodded, her apprehension climbing with every passing second. “I’ll look away,” she said as she turned her head away from Brock and towards Ash, who gave her a reassuring nod.

                “One,” said Brock. Before moving on to “two”, he jerked the knife free from Dawn’s arm, catching both Dawn and Ash off guard. Dawn shrieked in pain, causing Ash to clasp Dawn’s mouth shut, in case anyone was nearby. Brock was already wrapping the bandages around Dawn’s wound, which was slowly starting to ooze with blood.

                “There,” said Brock once he had finished, “that wasn’t so bad, was it?”

                “You idiot!” hissed Dawn, crying tears of pain, “you were supposed to count to three! What the hell was that?”

                “Trust me,” said Brock, “it would’ve hurt more if I did, because you would’ve expected the pain, which makes it hurt more. That wound will heal in no time!”

                “You better hope so,” snapped Dawn, “or you’re gonna get one just like it!” Her threat registered as surprise on Brock’s face, and Pikachu hid behind Ash’s leg out of fright.

“Sorry,” apologized Dawn, “I’m just so upset about what happened today that…” she didn’t finish her sentence.

                “Forget it,” said Brock, “but could you tell me exactly what _did_ happen today, if you know?”

                “Long story short,” piped Ash, “Team Rocket’s stronger. Now they’re calling themselves the Rocket Empire. They’ve taken over all of Sinnoh. Oh yeah, now there’s a region-wide manhunt for us.”

                “I already knew that last part. They must really want that egg, if they’re trying to kill us for it!”

                “Well, where do we go from here?” asked Dawn, “obviously we can’t stay in Sinnoh without being killed.”

                “We need to get out,” replied Ash. “To Kanto, or Hoenn, maybe. The question is, how?”

                Brock pulled out his map of the region and laid it across the ground, then pulled out from his pocket a compass, which he laid on the map. He studied the map, which proved to be a daunting task, since he could barely see it when he only had the light from the fire.

                “Okay,” Brock finally said, “we have a few options here. There are ports in Canalave as well as Sunyshore. We can hitch a ride on a boat to some other region. We’re here,” he said, pointing to the edge of Hearthome City, “and we’re about equidistant from both cities. “

                “We should try Canalave,” voted Dawn.

                “Why there?” asked Ash. “Why not Sunyshore?”

                “Because,” said Dawn, “Twinleaf Town is on the way. I want to know if my mom is okay.”

                “Out of the question,” said Brock, “We’d have to cross Mt. Coronet, and that just adds extra time to the trip. That, or go around and hit Snowpoint City, which adds time to the trip still. It’d take us a month either way, but going straight to Sunyshore would take us half that time.”

                “That’s true,” said Ash, “but it isn’t like we can’t make the longer trip. I mean, we do have all of this food and supplies. I think that going around the mountain is the best idea, plus we can somehow pick up more supplies at Snowpoint if we need to.”           

                “Yeah, besides,” said Dawn, “I think that in this case no news _isn’t_ good news.”

                Brock fell silent, obviously not liking the idea of taking the longer trip to the port. “What about this,” he said, “we can take the boat at Sunyshore and stop at Twinleaf Town first before going to another region. This way, everybody wins, right?”

                “How do we know that there’ll be a boat that’ll stop at Twinleaf? Or even if there is a port? For all we know, the ports were destroyed in the invasion. Did you think about that?”

                “Well we have to go somewhere, don’t we?” vented Ash.

                “He’s right,” said Brock, “we can only assume that the ports are still running. If they’re not, we’ll go into hiding outside of a city. But for now, we should plan on catching a boat out.” Dawn raised her eyebrows at Brock. “And we’ll try the Canalave port first.” said Brock with a sigh. “That might be a better idea after all; from what I remember, they have a regular boat travelling to and from Kanto; we can take that, assuming it’s still running.”

                “Good,” said Dawn, who began to stand up. “I’m gonna go relieve myself, then I’m going to bed.”

                “Now?” asked Ash, “it’s only 5:30!”

                “So?” snapped Dawn, “it’s been a long day, and I’m tired as hell. Do one of you guys mind keeping watch tonight?

                Ash forgot about that part. They’d have to have someone stay up through the night to keep watch, in case anyone who would be looking for them was travelling by night. He was about to volunteer for the watch before Brock said, “I’ll do it, I’m not exactly in the mood to sleep.”

                Neither was Ash, but he didn’t object. After everything that had happened today, he wasn’t in great condition for offering any sort of argument. He stroked Pikachu’s fur, Pikachu being, like Dawn, tired and ready for bed. Ash figured that he might as well try and go to sleep, too.  He had no idea how much he would need it in the days to come.


	9. Boiling Point

_November 15_

                When Ash woke up, everything was a mixture of black and white. It was still dark out, but everything was now covered in a thin layer of glowing white snow, illuminated by the full moon directly above him. The air had grown much colder since he had fallen asleep, and Ash quickly found himself shivering, the fire having been put out by the snow long ago.

                He brushed the snow off of his watch to check the time. 12:19 AM. They had fallen asleep at about 7 PM, so Brock had been keeping watch for five hours now. Ash figured he would switch off with Brock now, since he was already awake. Ash looked around to see Dawn and Pikachu blanketed by the sheet of snow, yet Brock was nowhere to be found.

                Before he could wonder where he had gone, he heard a faint grunting sound behind him. He turned to see Brock hanging from a tree branch, lifting himself with his arms before letting himself descend again.

                Brock noticed now that Ash had woken and was giving him a strange look. “What?” he asked.

                “Brock, are...are you doing pull ups?” asked Ash.

                “Sure,” replied Brock matter-of-factly, “why should running for my life keep me from getting out of shape?”

                “Yeah, I suppose,” said Ash, “but you’re done for the night. I’m taking your watch shift, OK?”

                Brock gave a chuckle as he released his grip from the tree branch. “Alright,” said Brock, “if you say so.” He walked over to where Ash was sleeping and lay down.

                Ash, meanwhile, sat down opposite Brock, bringing with him the two garbage bags of supplies, which were beside Dawn. He removed everything from the bags and laid them out in front of him. Among the supplies were the two empty backpacks, three waist belts, hunting knives, wood axes, and two winter jackets, as well as other, smaller supplies.

                He perused the loot, wondering how he should divvy up the supplies among each backpack. He started with the knives, putting one of each into a waist belt, one for each of them. He then took the two wood axes and put one in one of the empty backpacks, the other in his own. He would’ve put it in Brock’s other backpack, but Ash thought it would be wrong to snoop in his and Dawn’s backpacks.

                Most of the supplies that were left on the ground now were smaller items; matches, batteries, flashlights, smaller things that would still prove to be important. He divided all of these supplies into three equally-sized piles, and then distributed each pile into a backpack; one pile into Ash’s own backpack and the other two piles each going into one of the new backpacks.

                Now that Ash was done with the supplies, now he went to gauge the current food and water supply. He had put this off until the end, since he didn’t quite want to know how much food they had, in case it wasn’t much. He grabbed the bags of food from Dawn’s end and quietly dumped the cans of food onto the forest floor. Judging by the size of the pile, plus whatever Ash thought the others had in their backpacks, they had enough food for about three weeks, give or take. “ _Not long enough,”_ thought Ash, remembering that the trip to Canalave would take at least four weeks. ” _We’ll have to cut our meals,”_ he thought, “ _probably to two meals a day, one for the other Pokémon. Oh, man….”_ He was devastated at the thought of cutting their daily meals, especially for the Pokémon; would they be able to handle it?

                Ash moved on to the water bottles. Counting the empty ones, his own water bottle, and Dawn’s and Brock’s, which had been filled up two days prior, they had about a day and a half worth of water. They’d have to find some sort of stream, or a creek, Ash thought. That, or die of thirst in a week, tops. They were relatively close to Mt. Coronet, though, so couldn’t they—

                “I’m telling you, I think he went this way!”

                Ash didn’t even react before taking refuge behind a bush. He didn’t dare look to see who it was. For all he knew, it was someone who was looking for them specifically. He had no choice but to listen to the voices and pray that neither Brock nor Dawn would wake up.

                “How do you know?” said a voice, “we haven’t even seen him!”

                “That might’ve been his footprint back there!” said the first voice. This voice was deeper, gruffer than the other. 

                Ash heard the slap of flesh against flesh as a shout rang out.  “Explain to me, then,” shouted the second voice, “why that’s the only one we’ve seen for miles!”

                He couldn’t help it anymore; he simply had to see who was out there. He ever so slowly inched his head from behind the tree until his left eye protruded from behind it. Standing about a hundred feet off in the distance were four men. Ash couldn’t tell what any of them looked like, but one of them seemed to glow in some sort of white jumpsuit, while the others wore dark grey ones. Ash immediately recognized those as Team Rocket uniforms. Three of them, including the one in the lighter jumpsuit, were shouting at each other, while the fourth seemed to have no interest in the squabble, leaning against a tree a few yards off.  

                “Wait a minute,” shouted a third voice, “his footprint points that way, let’s go in that direction and see what we find!” Ash saw a hand extend away from him, but from the corner of his eye he saw two blinking orbs. He turned to see Dawn, her eyes widened in fear.

                Ash, trying to remain calm, moved his finger up to his mouth to signal Dawn to stay quiet. He looked around him, trying to find anything that might help them get out of this situation. He noticed next to his foot a small rock, no bigger than an acorn. He could use it as a distraction, he thought, and give them time to quietly flee.

                He looked back over at Dawn, who had quietly gathered her bags and had woken Brock and Pikachu. He motioned to them to get their attention, and then signaled what he was going to do; he pointed to the rock in his hand, then made a small throwing motion, then pointed to the direction that they should run in. Dawn nodded, as did Brock. Pikachu climbed on Brock’s back, taking hold of his backpack.

                Ash took a deep breath and lobbed the rock in the Grunts’ general direction, hoping it would fly past them and land on the ground past the Rockets. Thankfully, it did. Ash couldn’t hear it land, but the Rockets must have been able to, because they stopped shouting at each other and immediately turned their heads toward the sound. As they walked toward it, the fourth grunt, who lagged in following the others, suddenly turned his head toward Ash.

                Ash was practically a statue, his whole body still as he stared into the grunt’s eyes. He was sure that the grunt was doing the same. Had he seen him? What about the others? The grunt continued to stare towards him for what seemed like a full minute to Ash. “ _If you’re gonna kill us,_ he thought, _don’t keep me waiting!”_

The grunt didn’t keep him waiting, but he didn’t kill him, either. He simply turned in the direction that the other grunts had and walked off, disappearing in the darkness of the forest.

                Ash didn’t waste any time scooping up his supplies and throwing them back in the garbage bag. He’d have to resort them again, but if it kept them alive longer, he’d be willing to do it. “Run!” he hissed at Dawn and Brock, and they quickly got up and ran in the opposite direction that the grunts had gone, their bags hastily slung over their backs.

                Ash wasn’t sure how far they had run. He didn’t even know what direction they had gone. For all he knew, they could be running from Canalave, making the trip that much longer. All he knew was that after only two minutes, Dawn was on the ground, gasping for breath. Brock was kneeling next to her, holding a bottle of water to her mouth.

                Ash sighed and looked around at his new locale. They had left the firepit ring back at their old hideout, which was no longer safe to go back to. But Ash wasn’t comfortable sleeping out in the open anymore. No, they had to be concealed, he thought.

                “Dawn,” he said, turning to her. She wasn’t wheezing anymore, but she was taking large sips from the water bottle. “Do you think you can climb this tree? We need to stay hidden.” He gave her an almost apologetic look.

                Dawn nodded, looking ready to cry out of exhaustion and fear. “If you want,” she said between breaths, “I can keep watch for the rest of the night.”

                “Hell no! You need to rest. I’ll keep watch till morning.”

                Dawn didn’t feel like putting up any sort of a fight, so she quietly climbed an adjacent tree and disappeared in the canopy as Brock did the same. Ash went over to Dawn’s tree and climbed it, not willing to leave Dawn alone. He felt bad about leaving Brock out, but he’d be fine on his own. “ _Right?”_

                She laid herself down on a wide branch, her back up against the tree itself. She was laying her blanket across her body as Ash said, “You okay?” Dawn turned toward to Ash and nodded. “Just try to sleep,” Ash said, “you’ll feel better in the morning.”

                Dawn closed her eyes as Ash climbed further up the tree. He found a branch big enough to support him, and sat down on it, Pikachu lying on his lap. The air was much cooler due to the elevated altitude, and Ash had only his jacket and his thin blanket to keep them warm. They did the job well, but Ash and Pikachu couldn’t help but shiver.

                He looked down at Dawn, who was about fifteen feet below Ash’s branch. Even from all the way up there, Ash could see her shivering from the stifling cold. He would be warm enough without his blanket, he thought, so he climbed down to Dawn and wordlessly covered her in his blanket before climbing back up to his own branch. When he got back to his branch, he looked down to see Dawn, who had cocooned herself in her second blanket, no longer shivering, sleep having finally overtaken her. “ _Good,_ Ash though, feeling just a little bit more proud of himself. He’d be colder, but at least Dawn would get to be warm.

                He didn’t know what to do with himself, now that he would be up for the rest of the night. On a whim, he decided to pull out his wallet, see what was in there. Ash first took notice of twenty dollars cash, which had been leftover from last week. _“Might be useful,”_ thought Ash, as he moved on to see what else he had left in there.

                He pulled out his Trainer card, but right away Ash noticed something different. While normally having a bright red background, it had transitioned to a dark grey. A black square was completely covering Ash’s picture, and all of his trainer information was gone. “ _What the hell?”_ Ash thought, “ _what happened to my Trainer Card?”_ He flipped it over to see that a wall of text had appeared on the back of the Card;

                            

                                **THIS TRAINER CARD HAS BEEN REVOKED AND THE TRAINER TO**

**WHICH THIS BELONGS, ASH KETCHUM, HAS BEEN FOUND **

**UNSUITABLE FOR CERTIFIED TRAINING IN ACCORDANCE WITH**

**SINNOH GOVERNMENT POLICIES.**   
  


Ash immediately recognized this as Team Rocket’s work, since the Sinnoh Government was no longer in control. “ _Great,”_ Ash thought, “ _just great!”_  He snapped his trainer card in two and threw it as far as he could, all while stifling his screams of rage. First Cyndaquil, then Dawn’s arm, then Brock’s ear, and now his Pokémon weren’t even legally his?

                Pikachu licked Ash’s cheek a few times, which made him feel better. He presumed that the same thing had happened to Dawn’s Trainer Card, but decided not to bother her about it until morning. After all, she had been through enough today as it was. He put his wallet in his back pocket and simply stared at the wall of leaves that hid him.

*****

                For Jasper, breakfast consisted of three small, pre-wrapped sausage links and eggs, the same as the grunts had. Not quite the delicacies he was used to back at Rocket Headquarters, but he was adept to change.

                Two of the grunts went foraging for any roaming trainers, leaving Jasper and one of the grunts by the fire they had used to make their meal. This grunt was a quiet one, Jasper noticed, and he seemed pretty shift, too, as far as the average grunt went.

                “Hey,” said Jasper to the grunt, “could you tell me your name again?”

                The grunt shot him an intimidating, almost menacing look. “Xander,” he mumbled, before turning his head back to his meal. He didn’t look at all interested in his food or in Jasper.

                “Don’t talk much, do you Xander?” said Jasper. “You’ve barely said a word since we left Hearthome!”

                Xander slowly shook his head as he shoved a forkful of eggs into his mouth.

                “Why is that?” asked Jasper. Xander simply shrugged.

                Jasper was going to say something else to Xander, but at that moment the other two grunts were running back to their fire, a slip of plastic in their hand. “Jasper, sir!” shouted one of the grunts, “you need to see this!”

                Jasper took the slip of plastic from the grunts. It was awkwardly shaped, as if someone had torn it into pieces. There was nothing special about it – just grey plastic with a black tile of some sort on it.

                “What the hell is this?” shouted Jasper, “it’s just a useless hunk of plastic!”

                “No, it’s not!” said one of the grunts, “flip it over!” Xander still had his head lowered toward his food.

                Jasper flipped over the card, not expecting to find anything of interest despite the grunt’s beliefs. What he found was a wall of text that, despite being cut off at various points, made Jasper grin wider than he ever had:

                                                                - **EEN REVOKED AND THE TRAINER TO**

**- SH KETCHUM, HAS BEEN FOUND**

**-ED TRAINING IN ACCORDANCE WITH**

- **NMENT POLICIES**

“Xander!” said Jasper, the anticipation beginning to overtake him, “Xander, look at this!” Xander eased his way over to the card Jasper was holding, raising his eyebrows when he read what was on it. “We’re right on their heels!” said Jasper. Xander did nothing but return to cleaning the crumbs from his plate.

                Not even Xander’s subtleness could deter Jasper now, not when this kid was so close by. “Everyone!” he shouted, “get your stuff together, we’re leaving now! Looks like we’ll be home by sundown!”

*****

                “Brock, what’s the plan for breakfast?” asked Ash the next morning.

                “We need to get moving for a bit before anything,” replied Brock, “I don’t think it’s a good idea to stay in one place for too long.”

                “Especially after what happened last night,” chimed in Dawn.

                “Pika p _iii_ ”, agreed Pikachu.

                “Alright,” said Ash. “Besides that, there’s something else we need to talk about. We need to cut down on our meals,” Ash said. “Two meals a day, one for the Pokémon, except for Pikachu.”

                “Wait a minute,” objected Dawn, “why is it that Pikachu doesn’t only get one meal?”

                “He’s never in a Poké Ball,” Ash replied, “so he’s just as active as we are. He needs the energy.”

                “Bullshit!” screamed Dawn, “all he does is sit on your shoulder all day, he doesn’t need two meals!” Pikachu hid his head in Ash’s backpack out of fright of Dawn’s anger.

                Even Ash was caught off guard by her fury. “Shhhh!” he hissed, “do you want anyone to hear us?”

                “It’s not fair!” she yelled, “first we’re caught in some sick game of hide and seek, and now we can’t even go on a full stomach?”

                “We simply don’t enough have food for the trip to Canalave,” Ash calmly explained.

                “Don’t you see what the Empire’s doing?” Dawn cried. “If they don’t shoot us, they’ll starve us out! They’re trapping us in a corner, Ash, can’t you see that?”

                “Trapped sounds about right,” a voice said.

                Horror instantly bleached Dawn’s face, and Ash whipped to see the white jumpsuited grunt, the same one that he had seen the night before. He pointed a gun to Ash’s chest.

                “Well,” he said with a sly grin, “that was easy.”

                “ _Just you?”_ thought Ash, stepping in front of Dawn to protect her, “ _where’s the rest of your-“_

                The other three grunts that he had seen last night emerged from behind the first, all of them pointing pistols at the trainers.

                “ _Shit.”_


	10. Savior

_November 15_

                Ash, Dawn, and Brock all held their hands up, none of them knowing if they should. Pikachu was charging up to unleash a thunderbolt attack, but Ash hovered his foot in front of Pikachu to ward him off. He didn’t dare speak out loud, not when they had multiple guns pointed at them. A grunt with blazing red hair stared at him with curiosity.

                “Did you really think,” sneered Jasper, slowly walking toward Ash, “that you could really try and run from _us_?” Dawn’s eyes began to water in fright. “I mean, we’re the Rocket Empire, for cryin’ out loud!” He drew closer until he was standing inches from Ash’s terrified face. “You can’t outrun us! We’re everywhere!”

                Jasper rammed his knee into Ash’s gut, bringing him to the ground as he howled in pain. Pikachu let out a cry of worry, which turned into pain as Jasper kicked him into a nearby tree, knocking Pikachu unconscious. He could hear Dawn screaming, trying to help him, but he saw the other grunts approaching them, rope in their hands. “ _Shit,”_ thought Ash, “ _this is it. We’re going to die.”_

                He saw the red-haired grunt pass Jasper, who had walked off and looked as if he was punching in numbers on his phone. He looked the grunt in the eye; making him feel accountable for his death somehow made him feel better. He advanced toward him as the others already had, rope in his hands.

                “I hope you feel good about this,” Ash remarked as the red-haired grunt jerked Ash’s arms behind him.  

                “I will soon enough,” mumbled the grunt as he began to wrap the rope around Ash’s wrists, “because I’m gonna get you guys out of here.”

                “Go to h…wait, what _?”_

                The man lowered his voice to a whisper. “I said that I’m getting you out of this. Just shut up, don’t move, and wait for my signal. You’ll know what it is when you see it.” He walked away, leaving Ash to mull over what he had said. Didn’t he recognize that voice?

                It was then that Ash realized that the rope around his own wrists were loose. Much too loose. He could easily slip his wrists out of the rope, but should he?

                He stole another glance at the red-haired grunt, whose back was to him, and suddenly everything clicked. The red hair, the voice, the loose ropes, and the promise to get him out, all of a sudden it made perfect sense.

                Lance.             

                _“But what is he doing in Sinnoh?”_ he thought.

                Jasper now stared at his phone as if he were waiting for it to do something. Ash saw Brock from the corner of his eye, struggling to grab his knife from his belt.

                “Brock,” he hissed. Brock turned his head to Ash, who shook his head as he motioned toward his knife.

                “Why not?” whispered Brock, “why shouldn’t I-“

                “Quiet!” roared one of the grunts. Jasper didn’t break his stare with his phone.

                There was silence among the seven of them, and all of them except for Lance stared at Jasper, who was still staring at his phone. “ _What the hell’s your problem?”_ Ash angrily thought, “ _Need to pretty yourself up before killing us?”_

A voice was then heard from Jasper’s phone. “Jasper?” said the voice, which Ash immediately recognized to be as Laina’s. “Jasper, what’re you-“

                “Laina!” shouted Jasper, who was still holding his phone in the air.

                “ _Must be a video call,”_ thought Ash.

                “Laina, we got ‘em!” Jasper continued, “We found the bastards!” He then moved the phone so that the camera was pointing at Ash, clearly helpless as Jasper and the other grunts were whooping and cheering, celebrating their prized capture.

                Laina wasn’t as excited, however. “How do we know he even has the egg?” she asked, “for all we know, he ditched it somewhere and he doesn’t have it.”

                Jasper’s triumphant look quickly faded, but remained smug. “I’ll guess we’ll find out soon enough.” He said with an evil grin. He ended the call and shoved the phone in his back pocket before turning to Ash.

                Ash flexed his muscles to make it look like he was struggling. “ _Give him what he wants,”_ thought Ash, “ _’cause you don’t know what’s coming!”_

“Now,” said Jasper, who was again advancing toward Ash, “I trust that you have something that we’re looking for?”

                “In my backpack,” he sighed, “front pocket, left side.”

                Lance, still in his guise, walked up to Ash and frisked him, taking his knife from his belt without a word. Ash eyed him as he removed his backpack from his back, but he did not return the glance.

                He walked away as he rummaged in his backpack for the egg. He showed no change of emotion as he pulled the egg from his backpack and handed it to Jasper. Jasper then tucked it under his arm as he pulled a pistol from his hip.

“Now, then,” sneered Jasper, “since we have the egg out of the way.” He smiled as he pointed his pistol at Ash’s forehead. Lance was still unmoving, staring at Jasper, waiting for him to make his move.

                Ash heard the gunshot ring and fade, but he didn’t feel pain. Lance had his gun pointed at one of the grunts, who lay on the ground. Dead.

                New hope had surged into Ash, his hopes for survival suddenly uplifted. Jasper had whipped his gun toward Lance, who was plunging Ash’s knife into the second grunt’s heart. Ash, realizing what was going on, quickly slipped his hands out of the loose rope and threw himself on top of Jasper, sending him to the ground as both the egg and Jasper’s gun flew out of his hands.

                 Ash could have picked up Jasper’s gun to finish him off, but quickly decided not to. He’d be damned if he was going to kill again. Instead, he dealt a few punches to Jasper’s eye, but Jasper pulled a hidden knife from his pocket and slashed it across Ash’s face before dealing a punch of his own.

                 Jasper now stood over Ash, bloody knife still in hand, leering with determination. Ash saw Dawn running up to them, clutching the wood axe. Just before Jasper was able to drive his knife into Ash’s chest, Dawn swung the axe into Jasper’s shoulder, causing him to cry out in agonizing pain.

                Ash took the opportunity to kick Jasper in the stomach, causing him to twirl and fall face first onto the ground. Before he could turn himself over, Ash ripped the axe from Jasper’s shoulder and hit Jasper in the side of the head with the blunt end knocking him out.

                He stood and surveyed the scene. Brock held the unconscious Pikachu in his arms as he ran towards the egg, which had somehow survived the fall from Jasper’s arms. Dawn was staring at Lance, who put his pistol back into his holster. The two grunts lay dead next to each other, face down in a pile of red snow and slush.

                It was Dawn that broke the silence. “Is that guy…dead?”

                “Knocked out,” said Ash, “but that wound doesn’t help any.”

                “C’mon,” said Lance, “we need to get the hell out of here.”

                “Why?” Dawn asked, “Are there any more of them nearby?”

                “No,” responded Lance as he handed the knife back to Ash, “but their phones pick up the sound of gunshots and broadcast it to Headquarters. After what just happened, they’ll be swooping in any minute. Let’s go!”

                Ash was grabbing for their bags when Dawn said, “Would you at least tell me who you are?”

                “Name’s Lance,” he responded, “pleasure to meet you.”

                “ _Sure doesn’t sound like a pleasure,”_ thought Ash. They picked up their bags and began jogging away from the murder scene, leaving behind Jasper’s pistol and knife.

                They didn’t stop moving until Lance said that they were far enough from the bodies. By this point, Dawn was ready to pass out from exhaustion.

                “You OK?” asked Lance as he tossed a water bottle to Dawn. She nodded as she gulped the water sloppily, water spilling down her chin.

                “Now that we’re all safe and sound,” Brock interjected, “I think it’s time for introductions. Dawn, this is Lance Luxforde, from Johto. Lance, this is Dawn.”

                Lance nodded as Dawn looked at him with wonder. “Wait, you’re _the_ Lance Luxforde, the Pokémon master?”

                “Yep,” said Lance nonchalantly, “well, at least I was.”

                “Wait,” said Brock, “what do you mean, was?”

                “What I mean is that I left after Team Rocket took over.”

                 “They took over Johto, too?” Ash cried.

                “Not just Johto and Sinnoh,” Lance responded grimly, “but pretty much the rest of the world.” The expressions of shock grew on everyone’s faces. “First it was Kanto, that was a year ago. Then—“

                “A year ago?” shouted Ash. “Why the hell didn’t we know about this?”

                “Censorship.” Lance bluntly replied. “They took control of all forms of communication – telephone, mail…anyways, they intercepted any form of communication and manipulated it to make it seem like nothing was happening.”

                “So you’re telling me that whenever my mother called me or wrote me in the past year, it wasn’t actually her?”

                “That’s right,” said Lance, “she’s either dead or in hiding, like everyone else in Kanto.” Ash buried his head in his hands, unable to bear the thought of her mother being dead, like so many others.

                “Which, thanks to Team Rocket,” Lance continued, “isn’t even called Kanto anymore. Now it’s the Eastern Sector of the Rocket Empire.”

                “And what about the other regions?” asked Dawn.

                “Well,” explained Lance, “Johto is directly connected to Kanto, so they were overtaken a few weeks after Kanto. That was when I got my ass out and into Hoenn. I was safe there for a while, but then about a month ago they were invaded. It was then that I assumed a false identity and ‘joined’ the Rocket Empire. Hoenn’s the Southern Sector of the Empire.”

                “Why’d they wait so long to move onto Hoenn?” asked Brock.

                “From what I was told,” said Lance, “somehow they found out about what was going on in Johto and Kanto. They were taken over not even two days later.”

                Ash suddenly remembered about one of his friends. “Wait, Lance, do you know what happened to Misty, the gym leader in Cerulean?”

                Lance was silent for far too long, suddenly looking melancholy.

                “No,” said Ash, “Lance, please, no!”

                “Ash, I- I’m sorry, but she....well, all of the League officials were targeted in the days after the initial invasion. She…she was one of the first to go…”     

                “Wait a minute,” said Brock, anxiety flooding his voice, “my family was running the gym in Pewter City. Don’t tell me that they’re…”

                “From what I heard, they went missing the day of the invasion. That’s all that was ever heard of them, but the other League officials from the region were all confirmed dead.”

                “Except for you,” Dawn pointed out.

                Lance nodded slowly. “Except for me.”

                They were all silent for several minutes, no one having anything to say to each other. Ash was going to ask Brock about Pikachu, but before he could Lance hissed, “Get down!”

                They all did so, Brock and Dawn hiding behind a bush and Ash and Lance took refuge behind a tree. Lance poked his head out to see what it was.

                “There’s two more of those grunts out there,” he said. Ash decided to poke his head out and see for himself. Sure enough, there were two of the gray jump suited grunts, both of them holding some sort of radar device.

                “ _Who would they be tracking?”_ Ash thought to himself. For them? For the dead grunts? He thought about the phones that picked up the surrounding noise. “ _Wait a minute, Lance was with them. Wouldn’t he have the same phone that the others had?”_

“Lance,” he whispered. He turned his head toward Ash. “Your phone,” he hissed, “I think they’re tracking it.”

                It took Lance all of his self-control not to shout every kind of curse word he could imagine. How could he have been so stupid, to leave his phone, fully accessible by Team Rocket, where everyone at HQ could see where he was?

                Lance removed his phone from his pocket and stomped on it, crushing it to pieces. From the distance, a faint, “Hey, where’d it go?” could be heard.

                “ _So they were tracking us,”_ thought Ash.

                Lance wordlessly pulled out his gun and shot the two grunts dead.

                “What the hell?” Ash hissed, “you couldn’t just let them live?”

                “No way,” Lance returned, “not these guys. Move!”

                They picked up their bags and kept on walking, none of them saying a word to each other. Ash had the events of the past two days reeling in his head like a film. The invasion, him killing the grunt, Dawn being stabbed, them almost being shot, Lance coming in…

                And then Dawn, swinging that axe into Jasper’s shoulder, administering a potentially fatal wound. Just a day earlier, Dawn had been objecting to any kind of violence against others, even if their life depended on it. And now she had done just that.

                “Hey, Dawn?” Ash said. Dawn, who was walking ahead of him, slowed down to be walking next to Ash.

                “Yeah?”

                “Um, well I just wanted to say thanks, for the thing with the axe. Earlier, I mean.”

                “It wasn’t much,” mumbled Dawn, “I-“

                “No, what you did was amazing!” Ash said, “yesterday you wouldn’t harm a fly, and you nearly killed that guy today!”

                “It was only to save your life,” Dawn objected, “I would never do it out of cold blood, like Lance did.” She lowered her voice to a whisper. “How do you know we can trust him?”

                “We’ve known him for a really long time,” Ash said. “Besides, if he really wasn’t on our side, he wouldn’t have saved our asses back there.”

                “Hey,” said Lance from the front of the pack, “where were you guys headed?”

                “Canalave,” said Brock, “we were gonna try and catch a boat out of Sinnoh.”       

                “Fat chance,” said Lance. “The nearest region that’s not under control of the Rocket Empire is the Orange Islands. But boats from there rarely made stops in Sinnoh, and they sure as hell won’t now.”

                “There’s _nothing_ going to Kanto?” asked Brock. “It’s very important we get there.”

                Lance stopped walking and turned to face Brock. “Look,” Lance said, “I’m sorry that I can’t tell you anything about your family. Really, I am. But I can’t let you go off and try and find your parents. There’s no guarantee that you’d make it out of Sinnoh, or into Kanto, or what you’d find there. It’s simply too dangerous, you’d-“

                “That’s easy for you to say!” shouted Brock, “Your family isn’t lying around dead somewhere, I can’t just hang around here and _hope_ that they’re alive!”

                “My family _is_ dead,” Lance said calmly, “and it hurts to say it, but you’d be better off assuming that your family is, too. You’re safer with us than anywhere else.”

                “Well if we’re stuck here,” said Ash, “then what’s the plan exactly?”

                “I don’t know what you guys are thinking,” Lance said, “but the only thing we can really do now is stay in hiding. As for myself, I’m not sure where I’m going.”

                Brock hissed through his nose, his anger subsiding. “Why don’t you stay with us?”

                “No!” Dawn objected, “How do we know he actually isn’t with this ‘Rocket Empire’?”

                “Because if I was,” Lance responded, “I would’ve let you die back there.”

                “Yeah, Dawn,” said Ash, “besides, we need him.”

                “For what?” she cried, “to make a bigger dent in our food supply while we wait to get shot by these guys?”

                “That’s not gonna happen if I’m around,” said Lance. “Besides, I can teach you stuff. Hunting, shooting, things like that. Stuff that you would need to know to survive if I wasn’t here.”

                “We need him for protection, too,” said Ash, “because I’m not sure I can do that part on my own.”

                Dawn didn’t say anything. She couldn’t; she didn’t have any other reason why Lance shouldn’t stay with them.               

                “It’s settled, then. He’s staying with us.”


	11. Upping the Ante

_November 15_

                Jasper couldn’t remember where he was when he woke up. He felt a throbbing pain in the side of his head, and he felt warm blood dripping from his cheek. He tried to get up, but he couldn’t, for an erupting pain in his shoulder kept him down, along with the straps that kept him on the gurney.

                “ _Wait a minute,”_ thought Jasper, “ _what the hell am I doing on a gurney?”_

There was a loud whirring sound that Jasper couldn’t identify. He barely had the strength to move his head to the left, to see if he could remember where he was. He laid his eyes on two of his dead grunts, who lay on top of each other. “ _Where’s the third one,”_ he thought, “ _I swore there were three grunts with me.”_

It was then that he had remembered what had happened. How ‘Xander’ had betrayed the search party and left Jasper for dead, taking those trainers with him. And it was those same trainers that nearly killed him with that damned axe.

                “Sir,” shouted a voice, “are you alright?”

                He looked up to see another grunt, one that he recognized from the Medical Department, standing over him as a helicopter was hovering overhead. “I think so,” murmured Jasper, but the Medic couldn’t hear him over the whirring sound, which grew ever louder.

                “We’re having you airlifted to Headquarters!” shouted the grunt, “you’re gonna need some serious surgery done on that shoulder, and you may have a concussion, but we think you’re gonna be okay!”

                The grunts in the helicopter were dropping down some sort of thick cable that Jasper couldn’t identify, while the grunts on the ground attached to the corners of Jasper’s gurney.

                The grunts in the helicopter began winding in the cables, making Jasper’s gurney rise into the air as it made its way into the hovering helicopter. The last thing he saw before he blacked out again was the grunts on the ground sealing the bodies of the dead grunts into black body bags.

*****

                Jasper still lay on the gurney when he came to, but he was being wheeled down a bright hallway rather quickly. Instead of the medic grunts attending to him, he was now supervised by a team of surgeons in sky blue robes.

                Jasper tried to say something, say anything in order to figure out just what was going on, but all he could do was moan something that the surgeons couldn’t cipher.

                “Get some more anesthesia in him!” said one of the surgeons. Jasper wanted to object, but before he could he felt the prick of a Sleeping Syringe in his right forearm. Whatever he was moaning before was nothing but silence now as he slipped under once more.

*****

                When Jasper fully regained consciousness, he sat upright in what looked like a hospital ward. Wires protruded from his arm, and, alarmingly, he could only see out of one eye. He lifted his other arm to his face and was slightly relieved to feel coarse bandages wrapped around one side of his head. He was no longer in his light-gray jumpsuit, but a simple blue hospital gown. The thought of someone undressing him as he was knocked out unsettled him.

                A nurse walked into the room at that moment. Jasper noticed her as she kept walking past him. “Excuse me, ma’am,” said Jasper as the nurse noticed that Jasper had woken.

                “Yes?” inquired the nurse.

                “Would you mind filling me in on exactly what happened?” asked Jasper, “you know, during the…surgery?”

                “I wasn’t present during the surgery, but I can fetch Dr. Morstone for you. He’s the surgeon who operated on you.”

                Jasper nodded as the nurse walked away. He was the only one in the room now; all of the other hospital beds were empty. He replayed in his head the events from earlier. Xander, or whatever his real name was, shot the first grunt dead. Then he was tackled by Ash. He almost had him, but then that bitch lodged the axe in his shoulder, and that was all he could remember.

                The doctor walked in through the doors with sheets of paper underneath his arms. “Hello, Jasper,” he said, “it’s good to see that you’re awake. I’m Dr. Morstone, senior surgeon of the Northern Sector.” He looked jovial, almost as if he wasn’t affiliated with an evil crime syndicate turned government.

                “I’ve heard,” mumbled Jasper, “so exactly what happened during the procedure?”

                The doctor’s jovial expression quickly turned to one of seriousness. “Well,” he began, “we began with the injuries to your head. It was a rather simple fix, just some stitches under your eye and painkillers for the head pain. There wasn’t anything we could do for the concussion once you got here, however.”

                Jasper nodded. “And my shoulder?”

                The doctor sighed. “That’s where things get complicated.” He sorted through the X-rays until he found the one that he was looking for, which detailed Jasper’s mangled shoulder. “As you can see, the impact from whatever hit you shattered the clavicle right in two. But the magnitude of the strike also damaged several of the other bones nearby, including the scapula.”

                “So what did you do then, exactly?” asked Jasper flatly.

                “In order to optimize the quickest recovery possible, we had to transplant both of those bones with metal replacements. Consider it a full-blown shoulder transplant, except for a few bones that weren’t harmed in the impact.” The Doctor put away the X-rays and then turned back to Jasper. “You’re gonna be incapacitated for the next few days before you can possibly get back to work.”

                “No, that can’t happen!” Jasper angrily shouted, “I can’t stay out that long! I don’t care if you have to wheel this damn bed into my office, I need to work, the Empire depends on it!”

                The Doctor refused to be intimidated by Jasper’s attitude. “I’m sorry sir,” he said sternly, “but early release from the hospital could hinder your recovery and lead to more complications.”

                Jasper wanted so badly to just off this man right here, right now, but knew that he couldn’t, nor shouldn’t. Even though it killed him to hold in his anger, he managed to do so. “Bring me Laina,” he muttered, “from the Executive Office.” The doctor stared at him blankly.

                “Now!” shouted Jasper. The doctor ran from the room in a hurry, not knowing who Laina was but knowing that she would be in the Executive Office.

*****

                Laina had been practically glued to her phone all day, trying to find any information she could about the dead grunts. She didn’t even know if any of this true; she had heard a rumor that a group of Rocket grunts were found dead outside of Solaceon Town. None of the other grunts had paid much attention to the news, but Laina, worried that Jasper could have been among them, phoned him in desperation, but to no avail.

                 “ _Jasper was supposed to call once he killed those kids,”_ she thought, “ _why hasn’t he called back?”_

At that moment, someone came bursting through the doors of the Executive Office, shouting her name. “Laina?” the man shouted, “Where’s Laina? Is Laina in here?”

                Laina pushed her way through the other grunts in the office, making her way toward the man. “What’s the problem?” she asked when she finally got to him.             

                The doctor looked worried. “Ma’am, Jasper is in the hospital, he wants to-“

                Laina had bolted past the doctor and into the nearest elevator before the doctor could even finish his sentence. She mashed the button that would take her to the basement, which is where the hospital was.

                Her mind jumped back to Jasper as the elevator _dinged_ and the doors slid open to reveal the main lobby of the hospital. “Where’s Jasper?” she shouted as soon as the nurse at the front desk noticed her.

                “Jasper, the Executive Leader?” asked one of the nurses.

                “No, Jasper the eight-horned Rhydon!” Laina sarcastically retorted. “Where the hell is he?”

                The nurse immediately thumbed through the patient information, trying to find the profile that belonged to Jasper. “Surgical Center, East Wing, Room 120” said the nurse.

                Laina brushed past her and into the Surgical Center, which lay directly to her left. The hallway that she was in housed the rooms that began in the 100s, so Laina knew she was in the right hallway. She jogged down the hallway, eyeing each room number as she passed it.  “ _114….116….118….120! I found it!”_

When she entered the room, Jasper glanced at her behind a head that was half-covered in bandages. “Hey,” he said calmly.

                “What the hell happened?” Laina asked hysterically, “your face, it’s…it’s…”

                “Fine,” replied Jasper, “just a concussion, and some stitches. But don’t worry about me, we need to talk.”

                 “How did this happen? Who did this to you?” she pressed.

                “I told you not to worry, Laina!”

                 “Jasper, don’t tell me that it was Ash, don’t tell me that he did this!”

                Jasper breathed deeply, which Laina took as a yes. “What the hell!” Laina shouted, “When you called me you had him! How the hell did he get away?”

                “One of the guys in our search party turned out to be a traitor,” said Jasper.

                “Traitor?” said Laina, acting as if she had never heard the word before, “what was this guy’s name? And I heard there were four dead grunts!”

                “He was calling himself Xander,” said Jasper, “but it’s kinda obvious that that’s not his name. I’m not sure what you heard about four dead grunts, but from my search party there were only two deaths.”

                Laina didn’t hear that last part, because she was pulling out her laptop from the moment she heard the name ‘Xander’. She quickly opened it up and opened the Rocket database, which held information on every single grunt employed in the Empire. She typed in ‘Xander’ and immediately came up with one query.

                As soon as she pulled up Xander’s profile she could immediately tell that this man was no ‘Xander’, but Lance Luxforde, the dragon master from the Western Sector. His red hair and intimidating stare gave it away much too easily. How had Jasper not recognized him before?

                “Looks like you’re right,” said Laina, showing Jasper the false profile. Jasper took one look at it and nearly punched the screen with his good arm in rage. Laina couldn’t blame him; if she found out that a world famous trainer severely injured her and made the head of the world’s largest government look like a complete chump, she’d be pretty pissed too.

                “Alright,” said Jasper when he calmed himself, “we can just add him to the wanted list with those other kids. Speaking of that, though, we needed to talk about the bounty, and a few other things.”

                Laina pulled up a chair next to Jasper’s bed and sat down. “Shoot,” she said.

                It took Jasper a few seconds to begin speaking. “The only people that are looking for these guys are our search parties. I don’t think the bounty that we set yesterday is enough, because we can’t get the people to get out and look!”

                Laina wasn’t surprised by Jasper’s insistence. He had been going crazy over this egg, and he would do anything to get it, whether those kids were dead or alive in the end. “Is that really necessary?” she asked, “it took us not even a day to find them beforehand, what’s the point of raising it now? It’s not like it’ll be any easier.”

                “But now we _know_ that they’re armed,” Jasper explained, “and that we alone can’t easily take them down. Which leads me to my next point. How many grunts are in each search party?”

                “Two, sometimes four,” answered Laina, “but I’m not sure if that has to do with-“

                “We’re doubling it,” interrupted Jasper, “Eight to a group, no less!”

                Laina couldn’t believe Jasper’s ridiculous requests. “How is any of this supposed to help the search when it’s going fine as it is?” she cried.

                “That’s what you don’t understand, Laina!” shouted Jasper, “it’s not going fine! They’ve killed five people now, and having Lance with them doesn’t make it any better. I said that we’d kill them and get the egg in a week, and I don’t intend on breaking my word!”

                Laina knew, much like everyone else, that it was near suicide to get on Jasper’s bad side. At that point, however, she simply didn’t care; he was being erratic, much too erratic for her to let it go. “I told you that this kid was dangerous, and you didn’t listen! And now even after being almost killed you’re chasing after him even more obsessively before! There’s other work to do besides finding this goddamn egg!”

                “But there are priorities, Laina,” shouted Jasper, “and this is our number one priority! So don’t yell at me like I’m some basket case, because _I’m_ gonna get this job done, with or without your help!”

                Laina fell silent. She knew at this point that Jasper couldn’t be any angrier without going on a potentially deadly rampage, whether he was injured or not.

                But Jasper wasn’t done. “You are to put out the order for an increased bounty of $100,000 on those trainers, including Lance. You are also to order _all_ search parties to double up with the nearest search party in their area and to stick together. Is this understood?”

                Laina nodded out of fear rather than understanding.

                “Good,” said Jasper, who suddenly became much calmer, “now, if you’ll excuse me, I think I’m going to take a nap. I trust you know your way back to your office?”

*****

                “….and you want to be absolutely still, else you’ll scare it away. It doesn’t help that your clothing isn’t camouflaged, they’ll bolt on sight if you aren’t still enough.”

                “But what’re we gonna use against it?”

                “I was getting to that. The gun will make too much noise, and I wouldn’t recommend using that axe, as much as it helped. You’ll have to do with your knife. Ash, are you listening?”

                Ash was sorting what was left of the unpacked supplies as Lance lectured Brock and Dawn about hunting wild game. He was listening in on his lecture, but to be honest he found it hard to pay attention.

                “Yeah,” he lied, “I’m listening.”

                Lance looked over his shoulder toward Ash. “What are you doing, anyways?”

                “Packing all of this stuff,” Ash replied, “I’ve barely had enough time in the past day to spend enough time doing it.”

                Lance chuckled as he dug around in his pocket. “After you see this, you’ll wish you didn’t have any time at all.” He unearthed from his pocket a handful of Poké Balls; how many there were Ash had no idea, but definitely way more than six, which was the limit for a trainer’s team.

                He threw one of the Poké Balls at the pile of supplies that Ash hadn’t packed. The Poké Ball emitted a red beam that, once it made contact with the supplies, transformed it into a red cloud of gas as it was sucked into the Poké Ball.

                “I thought that only worked on Pokémon,” commented Brock.

                “So did I,” said Lance as he tossed the Poké Ball to Ash. “I discovered it on accident a few months back. As far as I know, I’m the only one that knows about it.”

                Dawn didn’t look particularly impressed. “Come on, Brock” she said curtly, “let’s go hunting.”

                Lance grinned as he turned to Dawn. “No need to be so eager,” he said, handing her a walkie-talkie. “Use this to communicate if something happens. Try to find a source of water while you’re out there, we’re running low.”

                Dawn shot Lance a crude look as she and Brock walked off, leaving Ash alone with Lance and Pikachu, who was still unconscious.

                “While they’re gone, I’m gonna teach you how to fire a gun,” Lance said when they were out of earshot.

                “Do I really need to be taught to use a gun?” asked Ash, “It can’t be that hard, right?”

                “That’s where you’re wrong,” Lance replied. “There’s a lot more to using a gun than just pulling the trigger.” He walked over to a mud puddle and dipped his finger in it before smearing a dot the size of a quarter on a nearby tree.

                “Here,” said Lance, slapping a pistol he pulled from his backpack in Ash’s hand, “try to hit that target from where you’re standing.”

                Ash looked perplexedly at the gun. “Won’t it make a lot of noise?” he asked, “I thought the point of going into hiding was to not attract attention.”

                “This one’s silenced,” Lance assured. “I kept it hidden, because the grunts used un-silenced guns, and using this one would have made them suspicious.”

                Ash nodded as he aimed the gun at the mud target. He held his finger over the trigger, waiting until he was sure his aim on the target was perfect. Once he had his aim down, however, he didn’t fire. He continued to keep his gun raised, but he couldn’t pull the trigger.

                “Well?” said Lance.

                Ash lowered his gun. “Would you have blown your cover? If it wasn’t us?”

                Lance looked confused. “What do you mean?”

                “What if you hadn’t found me and Brock and Dawn this morning, if it was just some group of trainers that you had never met before in your life. Would you have blown your cover for them?  “

                Lance stared off into space for far too long before slowly shaking his head. “No, I…I don’t think I would’ve. Jasper — he’s the leader of the Empire — he was on—“

                “Jasper?” inquired Ash, “I thought Giovanni was the head of Team Rocket.”

                “Yeah, he _was_ ,” said Lance. “But he died a few years ago, and his son was supposed to take over as the leader. But he practically vanished off the face of the earth, so without a leader Team Rocket collapsed.”

                “But how’d Team Rocket come back?”

                “No one knows. They took over Kanto one day with no warning that they even still existed. The only thing that was different was that Jasper was at the helm. Anyways, he was on the search with us, and was going on nonstop about finding you, and something about that egg.”

                Ash pulled the egg from his backpack and handed it to Lance. “Yeah, this one,” he said.

                Lance raised his eyebrows when Ash handed him the egg. He observed it for a few moments, mesmerized by the sight of it. “I’m not sure exactly what this is,” said Lance, “but it’s pretty damn strange, that’s for sure.”

                Ash looked back at the target, and raised the gun and aimed for it, firing after a few seconds. The bullet landed just outside the edge of the target.

                He was somewhat disappointed, but Lance beamed. “Not bad for a first shot!” he exclaimed. He was going to tell Ash to shoot again, but at that moment his walkie talkie buzzed.

                “ _Ash?”_ said Dawn’s voice, “ _Ash, are you there?”_

                Lance tossed the walkie talkie to Ash. “What happened?” asked Ash, “did you find any water?”

                “No water,” said Dawn, “but Brock found a patch of Chesto berries. We might be able to use them to wake Pikachu.”

                “That might work,” said Ash, “we’re coming over there.”

                Lance grabbed the walkie talkie from Ash. “But don’t move,” he said, “just stay there.”

                Dawn didn’t answer back. “She’s moody, that one is,” said Lance when they began walking in the direction that Brock and Dawn went.

                “I can’t blame her,” said Ash as he slung the limp Pikachu over his shoulder, “she’s scared for her freaking life.”

                “And you’re not?”

                Ash didn’t immediately respond. Was he scared? Was he honestly scared at the thought of death, or being captured?

                “Well, I am a little,” he finally responded, “but not of dying. I guess it’s the thought of dying for no reason.”

                “I’m not sure I follow.”

                Ash sighed. “Let’s say they find us and kill us.”

                “How lovely,” interrupted Lance.

                Ash went on. “Anyways, to make a long story short, I guess I’m scared of dying while the Rocket Empire is still around. If I have to die, I want to be able to say that I tried to do something about this, that I went down with a fight.”

                Lance nodded in understanding. “You can’t say that you haven’t done something. You were a big help earlier with Jasper and those other grunts.”

                Ash’s mind jumped back to the grunts that Lance had killed, and shivered. “I only knocked one guy out,” he pointed out, “you did pretty much everything else, including killing those grunts in cold blood.” Ash paused. “Don’t you feel guilty? About killing?”

                “I’ve done a lot of killing in the past year,” said Lance. “I don’t think that I’m affected by that sort of thing anymore.”

                Ash looked at him as they continued their walk. “So you don’t feel any guilt over killing? Or anything at all?”

                Lance shook his head. “Sometimes I might be a bit remorseful. Maybe I’ll even feel sorry from time to time. But usually….there’s nothing.”

                He paused. “Let me put it this way. You can’t feel sorry for killing, not in this world. These grunts, well, they might not deserve to die, but when it comes to _your_ life, you can’t take a chance with letting them live. The way I see it is that I’m getting revenge.”

                “Revenge?” asked Ash.

                “Revenge. For what they’ve caused. What they’ve done.”

                Ash had to admit that he had a point. “Well, anyways,” he said, wanting to change the subject, “my point about dying is that I don’t want to die if I haven’t tried to stand up to these guys before they kill me in cold blood.”

                “So…what are you saying?”

                “That if I have to die, I want to die after I’ve tried to take down this Empire.”

                Lance slowly nodded. “I think we might do something about that.”


	12. Drastic Measures

                Ash tried to crush the Chesto Berry with his bare hands,but couldn’t penetrate its thick shell. He had to hammer it a few times against a nearby tree to break it open.

                “I hope this works,” said Dawn, wringing her hands in anxiety.

                “It will,” assured Lance. Dawn grunted as she turned away from him.

                Brock sighed in exasperation. “Can’t you two just get along?”

                “I have every reason to not trust him,” Dawn argued. “Sure, he saved our lives, but I’ve never met him before. Even if you guys have, and even if you guys knew him, who’s to say he still isn’t with the Rocket Empire and is just luring us into some other trap?”

                “You have a point,” said Lance. His agreement with Dawn surprised the others. “There’s no way that I can prove I’m on your side. But there’s no way that I can prove I’m on _their_ side either.”

                Dawn still didn’t look too friendly. “OK, if I shouldn’t consider you one of them, why should I consider you one of us?”

                Ash and Brock both shouted, “Dawn!” at the same time, the two of them taken aback by Dawn’s rudeness.

                Lance, however, only grinned. “You’ll get used to it,” he said.

                Dawn didn’t change her rude expression. “Would it at least kill you to change out of that uniform?” She pointed to Lance’s Rocket uniform, which he hadn’t taken off.

                Lance chuckled as he pulled out one of his Poké Balls and threw it, which unleashed a pile of supplies ranging from clothes to food to who else knew what. He grabbed from the pile a bundle of clothes, and then hid behind a tree so he could change.

                Ash took the dry berry residue and rubbed it between his fingers under Pikachu’s nose, hoping that the scent could possibly revive him. The residue turned into a powder as he gradually wore away at it, the dust having either flown into Pikachu’s nose or into the open air, never to be salvaged again. He went on with this for a full minute, wearing away at the powder until all of it was used up.

                Once he ran out of the berry powder, Ash stared longingly at Pikachu, clinging onto diminishing hope that the powder would somehow wake him up. When he didn’t he looked over at Dawn, who was shaking her head sadly. He turned then back to Pikachu to see that his nose was twitching.

                “Dawn, gimme the rest of those berries!” demanded Ash. Dawn shoved the berries into Ash’s hands, and Ash crushed several of them at a time. The hard shell of the berries cracked open, letting the dry berry powder fall into his hands.

                He walked back to Pikachu’s body and rubbed the powder between his hands much more vigorously than before, determined that using enough of the powder would eventually wake him up. He had already made his nose twitch, couldn’t he make him conscious?

                “Ash, it’s not gonna work,” said Dawn remorsefully, “it won’t-“

                “It has to work!” cried Ash. Lance was popping his head from behind the tree, seeing what was the matter. He rubbed away at his hands until he could feel the powder filling in newly opened blisters. When he had exhausted what was left of the powder, he looked at Pikachu, who at first still lay unmoving, but then slowly fluttered his eyes open.

                Ash sobbed in relief, thankful that Pikachu was awake, and alive for that matter. “Are you alright?” Ash asked through his sobs.

                Pikachu looked dazed, yet drew a sly grin on his face. “Pik _aaaa_ ,” he mumbled as he stood up.

                Ash was going to say something about being worried about him, but before he could he felt a rushing force, some sort of supernatural wave wash over him. He registered that it was the Aura before he lost all sense of consciousness.

                He found himself staring down at a wide river, flowing elegantly as it snaked and winded its way across the ground. Between him and the river was a steep hill, made of the same dirt and foliage as the forest that they were travelling through. He turned his head to see that this steep hill stretched as far as the eye can see in both directions. It’d be hard to navigate that hill down to the river without slipping and falling…

                The scene flashed away, leaving him not in some other vision, but with nothing. Everything was pitch black; Ash couldn’t see anything. That’s when he realized that he was able to _feel_ something smushed against his face. Dirt. Ash wasn’t able to physically feel anything when he was in Aura, so he had to be back in reality.

                “Ash?”

                He lifted his head up to see everyone standing over him, worried expressions on their faces. Wait a minute, where was Lance? That was when he realized that a splotch of dirt was covering his right eye. Ash wiped the dirt away to reveal Lance, who had changed from his Rocket uniform into his signature outfit, which consisted of a navy blue jumpsuit with red lining down the chest, as well as a black and red silk cape.

                “Even you’re on the run for your life, you’re still wearing that stupid ass cape?” said Ash, smirking.

                Lance wasn’t amused. “What the hell just happened?” he said sternly. “You were having some kind of seizure, but you weren’t twitching, just….shivering.”

                “It was the aura,” Ash said as he wiped the rest of the dirt off of his face.

                “Aura?” replied Dawn, “what’s that?”

                “It’s this thing that lets him have these weird visions into the future,” Brock explained.

                “What was it that you saw?” asked Lance, “anything important?”

                “You’d think it would be,” said Ash. “No, just some stupid shot of this river.”

                “Maybe there’s water nearby,” Dawn suggested, “or some other path we can take.” Pikachu nodded in agreement.

                Lance grinned. “You’re stranger than I thought, kid,” he said as he helped Ash to his feet. “Let’s settle in for the night, it’s starting to get late.” He turned away before saying, “Oh, and my cape isn’t stupid.”

                Ash chuckled. “Why would you still wear it, though?”

                “Sometimes, I feel like it’s the only part of ‘me’ that I have left. Besides, it’s more durable than you think. Makes for a decent blanket, too.” He grabbed for his Poké Balls as he said, “Any of you have a Pokémon that can make a fire?”

                Ash and Dawn both shook their heads.

                Lance smiled. “You’re in luck,” he said. Of the Poké Balls that were in the palm of his hand, he picked out four of them and threw them into the air. They shot open as they spit out red beams of light, which eventually transformed into Lance’s Pokémon.

                Of the four Pokémon that stood before him, Ash only knew one of them, which was his Dragonite. He knew what the other two were, an Altaria and a Camerupt, but he didn’t recognize the last one, which looked like some sort of flying UFO. He grabbed for his Pokédex, but paused when he saw that Dawn had beaten him to it:

                “ ** _Magnezone, the Magnet Area Pokémon. It evolves from Magneton in certain magnetic areas, and emits energy from each of its three magnets.”_**

                “You only have one Dragon type,” Brock pointed out. “Why’d you switch to…these?”

                “Two Dragon types,” Lance corrected, “Altaria’s part dragon. Desperate times call for desperate measures. My other Pokémon all died off. I had to go with these.”        

                “I’m sorry,” Dawn said, her voice filled with newfound sadness.

                Lance turned to her with a stern look. “For what? It’s not your fault that they’re dead. You didn’t kill them. So don’t be sorry. Don’t _ever_ be sorry.” Dawn looked at Lance uneasily as he continued. “Being sorry doesn’t get you anywhere. Not in this world. Not anymore.” He looked at Ash, then Brock, who were both staring at Lance the same way Dawn was. “Someone get a fire going,” he said as he began to walk away.

                “Wait, where are you going?” Brock asked.

                “I’m gonna try to find some wild game before it gets too dark,” Lance replied without breaking his stride. “Magnezone, come with me. Everyone else help out the others.”

                “I’m going with you,” Ash offered, “I haven’t gotten a chance to try hunting yet.”

                If Lance objected to him tagging along, he didn’t make it known. Instead he walked on as Ash joined him. “Brock, take my walkie talkie,” said Lance as he threw it to him. Brock nodded as Ash and Lance walked away from sight, Pikachu following behind them.

                When Ash and Lance were out of earshot from them, Ash said, “So I guess I’m just gonna use my knife for this?”

                “No,” Lance murmured, “you’ll use the gun. The silenced one. You haven’t been properly trained yet with the knife. The gun won’t be the best hunting weapon in the world, but we might be able to nab a Bidoof or two.”

                Ash was somewhat unsettled at the thought of eating wild Pokémon, and even more so when he thought of Pikachu eating this stuff. “Will any of the Pokémon have to eat this stuff?”

                It took him a moment to answer. “Not at first,” he finally said, “but once we run out of the food that you got they’ll have to eat this stuff.”

                “Don’t you feel guilty?” Ash asked, “About feeding them Pokémon? Or eating them yourself? Don’t you think it’s a bit cannibalistic?” He felt awkward about Pikachu listening to a conversation like this.

                Lance sighed in exasperation. “I would,” he said, “but what’s the point? They have to do this, that or go hungry. Why feel guilty about something I can’t control?”

                Ash said nothing. Soon, Pikachu would need to eat this wild stuff, and so would Dawn and Brock’s Pokémon, who hadn’t eaten in a day and a half as it was. Who knew what they were feeling, since they didn’t even know what was going on?

                They kept on walking through the thinning forest. “Looks like we’re heading east,” Lance commented, “that’s where the open plains are.” The sun’s golden hue was brightening into a beaming red as it began to hide over the horizon.

                “It’s starting to get dark,” Ash said, “we should—“

                “Shhh!”

                Ash and Pikachu immediately darted behind a tree to his right, fearing the worst. When Lance didn’t move and nothing else happened, Ash emerged from behind the tree to find not a group of Rocket grunts, but a herd of Stantler.

                “We’ll be eating like kings!” Lance whispered as he handed the gun to Ash. “Okay, now just like I taught you earlier – aim right for their eye.”

                Ash nodded as he held the gun and aimed. The Stantler, as many as there were, were roaming around and chewing the grass, so Ash found it hard to concentrate on one spot. He tried to focus on the eye of a particularly large member of the pack, who was herding his young that were roaming off away from the others.

                He must have stepped on a twig or somehow made noise, because half of the pack suddenly perked their heads up, several pairs of eyes now on him.

                “Now!” murmured Lance. Ash quickly refined his aim before pulling the trigger. The bigger Stantler, the one that Ash was aiming for, fell over as a bullet crashed through his jaw while the other ones fled hastily.     

                “Nice shot,” Lance commented, “but you didn’t kill it. Look, it’s still moving.”

                Ash looked back at the Stantler to see that Lance was right; it was struggling to get up despite the blood that was spilling from the bullet hole. He raised his gun to fire again, but Lance held up his hand to signal him not to. “Give me your knife,” he said instead.

                “My knife?” asked Ash.

“Yes, your knife.” Ash handed it to Lance, who then walked up to the floundering Stantler. Ash realized what Lance was about to do a second before he did it. He turned away just before he heard the scream of the dying Pokémon as Lance slit its throat. The sight of blood spewing from the dead Stantler reminded Ash of the Rocket grunt that he had killed the day before, and he started feeling sick to his stomach.

                “We can take this back to camp,” he heard Lance say, “and there I’ll show you how to-“

                He didn’t hear anything else after that, because by this point he was on his knees, puking his guts out as his head was filled with renewed thoughts of the grunt he killed, and of the grunts that Lance had killed earlier in the morning. And, of course, the Stantler that just lost its life.

                When Ash finally stopped retching, he stood up only to find that he was feeling dizzy. Lance, who had stored the dead Stantler in a spare Poké Ball, rushed to Ash’s side when he saw that he had fallen in his own pile of vomit.

                “Ash, c’mon,” said Lance as he snapped his fingers in front of Ash to keep his attention, “stay with me.” He handed him his bottle of water from his backpack, which he shoved away.

                “I’m fine,” Ash assured, “I was just thinking of something that—“ he didn’t finish his sentence, for another round of vomit was spewing from Ash. When he finished with that, Lance lifted him up and placed him on top of Magnezone.

                “Magnezone, we’re going back. You’re carrying him, okay?” Lance said to his Pokémon. He gave a short nod with his body as he started floating toward the direction where Dawn and Brock were, Pikachu riding on Lance’s shoulder.

                Ash felt bad that their hunting excursion was cut short, and all because the sight of blood made Ash sick. But didn’t have a reason for that? He was still getting used to the whole “kill or be killed” thing, wouldn’t it take a while to get used to it?

                “Lance, I-I’m sorry that—“

                “Don’t worry about it,” he said. “You’ll get used to it. We’ll try again tomorrow.”

                Ash was going to say something else, but stopped short when he heard a faint rushing sound. At first he thought that the Aura was coming back, and he held onto Magnezone so as to avoid from falling off. When he never went into the Aura, however, he realized that the sound, which never increased in volume, was coming from his left.

                “You hear that?” asked Lance. Ash nodded before he leaped off of Magnezone and started running toward the sound, with Lance and Pikachu chasing after him.

                “Ash!” Lance shouted, “What’re you doing?”

                Ash didn’t answer back, not stopping until he found the source of the sound; a large, rushing river of crystal clear water. It wasn’t the same river that Ash saw in his aura, but it had water nonetheless, and it would keep them alive that much longer.

                Ash was laughing in relief when he found the river. Their current supply was almost empty, and had they waited three days they’d be dying of dehydration.

                “Did you really have to run off toward some sound you couldn’t identify without at least letting me know?” Lance said sternly, “for all you know, you could’ve been running headfirst into a pack of Rocket grunts, and what would’ve happened then?”        

                “Who cares!” exclaimed Ash, “we found water!” He pulled out an empty water bottle from his bag and held it under the rolling water as it filled, reacting only slightly when the cool water made contact with his skin.

                “Just fill that one and let’s go,” Lance said, “we can come back tomorrow.”

                “I can walk from here,” Ash said, “I’m feeling fine now.”

                “I’ll take your word for it,” Lance grunted.

                They silently walked in the darkness of the night back to their makeshift camp, where Brock and Dawn not only had a fire going, they were already feeding some form of hash to the other Pokémon, Lance’s included. Every single one of them looked ready to drop dead from hunger, especially Togekiss, since she had to fly Ash and Dawn out of the city the day before.

                Lance looked horrified. “When was the last time you fed them?” he half-asked, half-shouted.

                “Probably two nights ago,” Dawn admitted sheepishly, “at the Pokémon Center, just before everything started going to shit.”

                Lance scoffed. “Just make sure that they eat up all of that.” Pikachu hopped off of his shoulder to have his share in the grub.

                Brock took notice of the vomit stains on Ash’s clothes. “What happened?” he asked, “you look like you threw up all over yourself.”

                “I did,” Ash said bitterly. “But we found a river in that direction, so I can wash them tomorrow.”

                Dawn was ecstatic. “Great! Now we can all freshen up and refill our bottles and—“

                “Don’t get too excited,” Lance joked, “it’s only water. But even better was that I caught us some fresh meat.”

                “What kind?” Brock asked, “A Rattata?”

                “Nope,” said Lance, hardly able to contain his excitement, “a Stantler!”

                “How’d you take down a Pokémon as big as Stantler?” Dawn asked.

                Lance thumbed toward Ash with a grin. “Ash here took it down pretty much all by himself!”

                Dawn suddenly looked queasy, the thought of killing a Pokémon making her uncomfortable.

                “But let’s not talk about that,” Lance continued, “we’ll deal with it tomorrow. Brock, can you fry up something from the canned food that we have?”

                Brock nodded as he rummaged in his backpack for something to cook up, eventually pulling out a can of pork and beans. “I just realized that we haven’t eaten anything all day,” commented Brock, “just looking at this can is making my stomach growl.”

                “I’ve eaten a bit more recently than you guys,” said Lance, “so I won’t eat much. I have some of my own food anyways.” He pulled out an energy bar from his pocket.

                “That won’t be enough for the night,” said Dawn, “you’re having some of this, and I’m not arguing about it.”

                Lance shrugged, pocketing the energy bar as Brock dumped the food into a pan that he held over the fire. Ash was going to mention something about what happened earlier, but before he could he noticed an odd gaping wound on Lance’s chin. It was then that he realized that his chin was unusually short, much shorter than any of theirs. ”Lance,” said Ash, “what’s wrong with your chin?”           

                Any sort of emotion that Lance had was wiped clean once Ash asked him about his chin. He shot a bitter look at him. “Bullet,” he mumbled with a hint of resentment in the tone of his voice.

                They were all silent for a few moments. “By them?” said Ash, breaking the silence.

                Lance nodded slowly. “When the invasion began in Johto, all of the League Officials were rounded up by the Empire and were executed.”

                “Wait, I thought you said that you left,” said Ash.

                “I did,” explained Lance, “but I had to put up a fight to get out. They _almost_ had me, but I got out. I took this bullet in the process, and one on my arm, too. I barely made it out alive.” He rolled up his sleeve to reveal two similar wounds on his left forearm. “The other one I took just last month, a few days after Hoenn fell.”

                “Great!” exclaimed Dawn, “just great! So what’re we gonna do now, just wait around and hide until they kill us? Act like we’re gonna be fine when we’re starving and freezing and waiting for the Empire to kill us?” Her voice held nothing but pure fear.

                “Exactly the opposite,” said Lance, “we’re gonna fight back.”

                “Wait, like against the Empire?”

                Lance grinned. “Who else?”


	13. The Promise

_November 15_

                “And exactly how will you go about doing that?” Dawn scoffed. “Just walk through the front door and start causing chaos?”

                “Pretty much,” Lance said casually, “We go in, we cause all hell to break loose, and we get out. Just like that.” He grabbed his Poké Balls from his pocket and called back his Pokémon, who by now had finished eating.

                “Excuse me,” said Dawn, sarcasm seeping into her voice, “but I think you left out the part where we get killed right as soon as we walk in.”

                “She has a point,” pointed out Brock, “there’s no way we could get into their headquarters or wherever the hell they’re at and do anything against them for more than a few seconds without being pumped full of lead.”

                “Yeah, maybe” said Lance, “but if we’re gonna die at their hands, then maybe a few more of them should die first.”

                “What’s the point?” objected Dawn, “we’re already in trouble with them because of this damn egg, why should we make it worse?”         

                “Because if we’re gonna be in trouble, we may as well be in big trouble.”

                They sat in silence as Brock handed wooden bowls to everyone. Ash couldn’t even think of doing something as drastic as going in to the HQ of the Rocket Empire and somehow take them down. Now that the thought seemed real…could they really do it? He looked at Pikachu, who was tossing his bowl playfully in the air. What would he do about him, if they actually did this?

                “How would we do this exactly?” Ash finally asked, “What are the details?”          

                “We’d go in under the radar,” Lance said, “obviously it’d be suicide to just walk in and start creating chaos. We’d have to sneak in somehow.”

                “I have an idea,” Brock offered. “What if we got ahold of some more of those Rocket uniforms? That way we could just walk in and no one would know it’s us.”

                “But how would we get them?” asked Dawn.

                “I think that the answer seems rather obvious,” said Lance. “The only problem though is that we’d have to aim for the head. Otherwise, we’ll tear the clothing if we shoot them anywhere else, and that’d be a huge giveaway if we used those.”

                “There’s so much that I don’t like about all of this,” Dawn retorted, “including killing those Grunts for their clothes and going into their headquarters and doing whatever it is that you plan on doing in there.”

                “I’m on her side,” said Ash, “it seemed like a good idea a few hours ago, but now it just seems more malicious than vengeful.” Pikachu and Brock both nodded in agreement as Brock dished out the food between their bowls. “Besides, I can’t let any of you guys get hurt, or worse, killed. I couldn’t live with myself if any of you died.”

                Lance shrugged. “Suit yourselves,” he said as he shoved a spoonful of food into his mouth. “But don’t think I won’t pull my gun the next time we run into those Grunts. Any of you have a radio?”

                Ash pulled out his radio from his backpack and handed it to Lance. He turned it on, coming up with nothing but static. As the other four began eating, Lance was fiddling with the dial on the radio, giving up after he came up with nothing after a few minutes. He set the radio down, not bothering to turn it off as he hacked away at his bowl of food.

                They ate in silence for the remainder of the meal, the only sound being the low hum of the radio’s static. As was becoming the norm, they all ate their small ration quickly, yet quietly. When they all finished, the five of them stared longingly at their bowls, willing for more of the food to magically appear, even though they all knew that that would never happen.

                “We should lay down for the night,” said Lance when he took Pikachu’s empty bowl and handed it to Brock. “I’m hoping that after last night’s little episode that you’re sleeping with a bit more cover?”

                Dawn looked at Lance with confusion. “And just how do _you_ know what happened last night?”

                “He was with the same group that was near us last night,” said Ash. “I remember seeing Jasper with them last night. And then Lance…” he turned to Lance, “I think it was him that was staring at me, after they left.”

                “If you saw me last night, then why didn’t you do anything?” asked Lance, “why not signal out to me or something?”

                “Well, I didn’t know it was you at the time!” argued Ash, “and besides, even if I did know I’m not about to signal to you when those grunts were so damn close!”

                “Point taken,” Lance mumbled. He stood up as he said, “Dawn, would you mind taking the first watch tonight if I take over after you?”

                “Sounds fine to me,” Dawn said flatly.

                “Alright, then. I’ll find a big enough tree for all of us. Someone put out the fire and get out the blankets, it looks like it’ll be a chilly night.”

                Lance walked to a nearby tree and began to climb it as Ash released one of the Poké Balls that held his supplies. He dug through the pile until he pulled out a bundle of blankets that he divided between the three of them.

                “Hey guys!” Lance called down from the tree, “this one should be big enough, but the branches are pretty high up. Whoever comes up first gets to be the highest up!”

                “I’ll go first,” said Ash, “I just gotta do one thing.” He walked back over to the pile of supplies and grabbed the coil of rope, which was lying on top of the pile. After uncoiling the rope, Ash then unsheathed his knife from his waist belt and cut the rope into four equal pieces, each of them being about ten feet long.       

                “Here,” he said as he handed a piece of the rope to Ash and Dawn, “you’ll need this if you don’t want to fall to your death.” He smiled as he re-sheathed his knife and threw the empty Poké Ball at the pile of supplies, beaming it back into the Ball. Ash slung two of the blankets over his shoulder as he approached the tree that Lance was in, gripping a protruding branch as he began to climb.

                Lance was right; the nearest branch that would be wide enough for any of them was at least forty feet above him. He climbed up the tree as the canopy that surrounded it grew increasingly thicker, which would prove to be convenient in terms of cover.

                Ash handed the third piece of rope to Lance as he finished the climb, laying himself down on a wide branch just under the one that Lance had occupied as Pikachu laid down in his lap. He then handed one of the two blankets to him, which he refused.

                “My cape will be fine enough,” yawned Lance as he tied the rope around his stomach, fastening him to the branch. Ash said nothing as Dawn and Brock both laid on branches a few feet below him.

                “Sweet dreams,” Lance said to everyone, “we’ll need ‘em.”

*****

                Ash pinched himself when he woke up in the middle of the night that night. Perhaps, by some astounding miracle, that everything that had happened in the past three days hadn’t happened, and that he’d be back to where he was before he found the egg; outside of Hearthome City, trying to fall asleep as he looked at the unblemished night sky.

                Unfortunately for him, he felt the slight pain of the pinch, sighing as he was pulled back to reality. The chilly air of the November night forced Ash to wrap his blanket tighter than he had originally. Dawn was taking the first night watch, with Lance taking the second one, but neither of them were moving, both of them sitting upright against the tree as they lay on their branches.

                He didn’t feel like seeing which one was on shift.  “ _No point in waking everyone else up_ ”, he thought. “ _Might as well go back to sleep.”_

                Easier said than done. Ash couldn’t bring himself to fall into a slumber, so he was left there, staring at the dark canopy that surrounded him. The only sounds he heard were the chirping of several Hoothoot, even though he couldn’t see them.

                As he gently stroked Pikachu, who was lying on his chest, a reel of thoughts flashed quickly through his mind. Thoughts of Dawn, of Brock, of Lance, of Pikachu, thoughts of anything and everything were flowing through his mind at a breakneck pace.

                “ _What was it like to die_ ”, he thought? “ _What would it be like to just receive the bullet or the knife and feel everything fade away?_ _I’ve been so close to death a few times already, how much longer before it finally happens?”_ He looked up at Lance, who was still laying upright against the tree. “ _Is he worried about the same thing? About pointlessly running from death? What about the others?”_

                Pikachu gave a small snort in his sleep, which diverted Ash’s attention to him. How long would he survive in all of this mess? How long _could_ he survive? Even if he wasn’t killed like everyone else could be, how long did a Pokémon his size live for anyways? He was at least eight years old by now. Would he live for another two years? Five? Ten?

                Ash decided, right then and there, that he would find out someday. He wouldn’t let Pikachu die because the Rocket Empire was hunting _them_. He wouldn’t die because Ash and everyone else had died and he was alone. He would watch Pikachu die, but not anytime soon. He would watch him die when the time was right, when he was ripe and old years from now. But not anytime soon. 

                “Lance?” Ash whispered. There was still no movement from any of them, so everyone must have been asleep. “ _What the hell?”_ he thought, “ _someone was supposed to be keeping watch!”_

                “Lance!” he whispered loudly. This time, Lance visibly stirred himself awake before letting out a slow groan.

                “Whutizit?” he said groggily. “Somethin’ happen?”

                “No,” Ash said quietly as he undid the rope that fastened him to the tree, “I just need to ask you something. Something important.”

                “Is it really that important that you had to wake me up an hour before I was supposed to take shift?” Lance said in exasperation.

                “Yes.” Ash didn’t waste any time having to think about that.

                Lance sighed. “Alright, what is it?”

                Ash stood up on his branch so that he was eye-level with Lance, waking Pikachu in the process as he jumped onto Ash’s shoulder. “Do you think you could promise me something?”

                “I can’t promise you anything about that promise,” he said, “but I’ll try.”

                Ash nodded. “Listen, I don’t know if I’ll be able to survive much longer out here. I mean, we’re doing fine and all, but we can only run into those grunts so many times before something happens.”

                “Right,” Lance said, looking as if he was in deep thought. “So what are you trying to say?”

                It took Ash a few moments to answer. “If I…well, you know…if something happens to me, could you take care of the others? Pikachu, especially. I don’t think that they’d survive much longer if I died.”

                Lance was silent, staring intensely at the canopy that was directly above him. Eventually, he said, “Can you promise _me_ something in return?”

                “I, uh, I…yeah, sure.”     

                “You’re right to be worried about your friends, your Pokémon. And you’re right to be worried about dying. I would know; I’ve had to deal with that every day for more than a year now.”

                Ash nodded in understanding of Lance’s sympathy. “But,” he continued, “the psychological pressure was worse for me, because if I died no one would be there to take care of all of my Pokémon.”

                “So are you asking that if you die…?”

                “Yes,” Lance said, “that you take my Pokémon. And my stuff, too, if you can. No reason that that should go to waste. In return, I’ll do the same for you when, I mean, _if_ you should die.”

                “Thanks,” said Ash. “You’re really doing me a favor, knowing that they’ll be safe if something happens to me.”

                “Sure thing, said Lance, “tomorrow we’ll re-sort our supplies so that, besides what we keep in the Poké Balls, we have one pack that we keep on hand.”

                “That sounds good,” said Ash. “Well…good night, I guess.”

                Lance said nothing as he closed his eyes, leaving Ash to return to his branch and re-fasten himself in with the rope. Pikachu re-settled himself in as Ash laid himself upright against the tree, much like Lance and Dawn were.

                “Do you really think we’ll die?”

                Ash looked down from his branch as he saw Dawn, who was looking up at him in return. “Of course not,” said Ash, “it’s just in case something else happens.”

                “Don’t give me that bullshit!” snapped Dawn, “Do you really think that I don’t know what’s going on?” She looked fearful, almost ready to cry. “Do you think we’ll die?” she repeated.

                Ash sighed. “If they find us,” he said, “they’ll just want me, not you or Brock. Lance, maybe, but – “

                “I don’t give two shits about Lance!” she hissed, “what I care about is whether _we’re_ going to die out here!”

                Ash winced at her comment. Hopefully Lance hadn’t heard her. “No. Please, just don’t worry about it now and just go to sleep. We’ll be fine.”

                “Alright,” Dawn said, even though Ash could tell she still didn’t believe him. In all honesty, Ash didn’t think that he could ever make her believe that they wouldn’t die out here. The number of times that they had stared death in the face seemed too numerous to count. Who’s to say one more encounter with the Empire wouldn’t finish them off?

*****

_November 16_

                The walk to the river from the previous day was a short one; from where their tree was, they reached the river in a matter of minutes after waking up. Dawn rejoiced at the sight of the transparent, flowing water. Brock wasn’t as marveled at the sight as Dawn was, but grinned nonetheless at the thought of having water for a few more days.

                “I’ll make a quick fire and boil some of this water,” Brock said. “It might look clean, but we can’t risk getting sick, especially out here.”

                “You’re right,” said Lance. “We can’t afford for any of us to get something like dysentery, especially out here. I learned that the hard way last winter.”

                Ash shuddered at the thought of getting sick, especially from something as mundane as water. As Brock scooped up some water with his pot and Lance was showing Dawn how to properly gut the dead Stantler, Ash went to work re-sorting the supplies that were in his Poké Balls, heeding Lance’s advice from the night before. He decided to fill the one backpack that he kept on him with only the most essential items that he might need.

                After completely emptying both the backpack and his Poké Balls, he immediately put the egg back in the backpack. Next came some ammo for the gun, which Lance had given to him the previous day. He was about to drop it into the backpack, but after reconsidering he slipped it into the waist belt next to his gun, since he’d be able to access it easier.

                “Hey, Ash,” Dawn called, “haven’t you sorted all of that crap out already?”

                “I’m redoing it,” Ash responded. He shrugged it off and went back to the supplies, placing two of the folded blankets in the backpack as he saw Brock deposit the boiled water into his bottle. Pikachu began to help Ash sort through the pile, making a separate pile of stuff that they wouldn’t immediately need. He looked at the boxes of medicine that Brock had gotten. He decided that one of each should go in the backpack and the rest could go to everyone else, in case they got separated.

                “ _There,”_ he thought when he was finally done, “ _that should be enough.”_ Besides the egg, he had in is backpack a box of matches, the piece of rope he cut up the night before, a flashlight, and some food, among some other necessities. His waist belt carried the gun, ammo, his knife, and all of his Poké Balls, both empty and filled with items.

                Between this and a breakfast of cooked Stantler and boiled water, there wasn’t much conversation. Lance and Ash were discussing where they would go from there. Brock was completely silent, only having spoken once all day.

                “We should follow the river, just to see where that takes us,” Ash suggested.

                “Or maybe head North, toward Snowpoint City,” Dawn chimed.

                “That’s a bad idea right there,” Lance said. “The November weather is cold already, it’s much worse up there.”

                “I was thinking more of something like Route 228,” Dawn said curtly.

                “Wrong again. It’s warmer, but Route 228 is on a separate island, there’s no way we’d be able to get there.”

                Brock had pulled out his map of the region and unfolded it, studying it for a few minutes. “I think that this is the river that we’re by,” he mumbled quietly, “and if it is, it heads straight toward Sunyshore City.”

                Lance nodded. “The climate there is slightly warmer, more so in the winter time. That might be our best bet.”

                Ash was going to respond in agreement, but before he could he spotted a group of gray-clad men in the distance. Rocket Grunts. He silently pointed them out to Lance, who immediately pushed Brock and Dawn behind cover as he and Ash did the same. Lance drew his gun, carefully aiming at the grunts before lowering his gun quickly.               

                “There’s eight of them,” whispered Lance. “I don’t think they can see us, but there’s too many of them to be able to just walk away without risking them noticing us. We’ll have to fire at them and hope for the best.” He glanced again at the group of Grunts, who had still not noticed any of them. “We’ll need to be especially careful with these ones,” he said. “Look at their guns.”

                Ash poked his head from behind their cover to get a good look at the Grunts. About five of them held automatic rifles in their hands, a step up from the pistols that they had been carrying before. But the others had guns with larger barrels, barrels that contained what looked like slender, neon orange rods.

                “Lance, what are those?” asked Dawn, the fear mounting in her quivering voice.

                “Sleeping syringes,” murmured Lance. “One hit with those and you’ll be out cold in a minute. That’s why they’re just as dangerous as those automatics. Either of them will easily get you killed.” Ash grimaced as he remembered the Sleeping Syringe that knocked him out at the Pokémon Center a few days prior. Lance glanced one more time at the Grunts before raising his gun again. “Ash, get your gun out.”

                Ash did as he was told and pulled out his gun, taking out the clip to make sure that it was full. Once he had filled it and inserted the clip, he unclicked the safety and raised it, aiming for the grunts.

                “Brock, when we start shooting you and Dawn stay down. Okay?”

                Brock nodded. “On my count of three,” said Lance. “One.”

                “ _What if they kill us?”_ Ash thought. “ _there’s so many of them this time, what’s to prevent them from finishing us off? Or some of us? What if I die, or Lance, but not the others? How will they survive without us? Would they survive without us?”_

                “Two.”

                “ _Crap. Oh crapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcrapcra-”_

                “Three.”


	14. First Assault

_November 16_

                When Lance jumped from his cover and fired the first shot, all hell immediately broke loose. He downed two of the grunts before they could return fire. Brock threw himself on top of Dawn and Pikachu, both of whom were in hysterics. Ash had his gun pointed at the grunts as well, but something, and Ash didn’t know what, but something kept him from firing. Was it the thought of having to kill more people to save their own skins? “ _They’re trying to kill me,”_ Ash thought, “ _but is that really a reason to kill them?”_

He don’t know why he decided it wasn’t. At first he resolved not to fire, keeping his gun raised as Lance picked off the grunts one by one, both of them ducking and popping up behind their cover repeatedly to avoid the gunfire.

                “Ash, what the hell?” shouted Lance. “Don’t just stand there! Fucking shoot, will ya?”

                Ash said nothing in return as he fired a few shots at a tree stump near the Grunts. He didn’t care about Lance thought of him. He didn’t even care if their lives were in danger. He would not take another human life.

                Firing at the stump must have been enough to convince Lance that he wasn’t wussing out after all. They both fired a few more shots, Lance taking out two more Grunts as Ash ducked to avoid a bullet aimed for his head. The remaining Grunts were pushing forward, continually firing as they neared ever closer to them. Ash wasn’t sure, but he thought that he counted three of them left.

                Lance picked the rest of them off, sighing in anger when the last one dropped dead. “What the _hell_ was that?” he shouted, turning to Ash.

                “I wasn’t about to kill them for no reason!” Ash retorted.

                “Your reason was right there!” Lance said angrily, pointing to the dead Grunts, “When you’re being shot at, you don’t worry about morals, you worry about saving your own goddam life!”

                Before Ash could apologize, a Grunt leaped from behind a tree in front of them and began firing his Sleeping Syringe gun at them. Lance quickly put him down, but not before taking a Syringe to the stomach.

                “Shit!” Ash screamed as the orange vial quickly emptied its contents into Lance’s blood stream. He yanked it out of his stomach and threw it aside as Brock, Dawn and Pikachu ran up to them.

                “You guys OK?” Lance asked, acting as if nothing had happened.

                “Are we OK? What about you? You just took one of those Sleeping Syringe thingies!”

                “Don’t worry about me,” Lance assured as he wobbled and lost his balance, propping himself on a nearby rock. “Just get us the hell…huff…outta here. Don’t take any of their things, just get us away from here. Downriver would be best.”

                “How long does this stuff last?” Brock asked.

                “A full vial will…huff…keep me out…a day or so. Just get us away…and hide…” He slumped his head on his shoulder and closed his eyes. If Ash hadn’t known better, he would’ve thought that he was dead.

                Ash threw Lance over his shoulder, almost crumbling under the weight of his body. “C’mon,” he grunted, “we need to get away, before more of them show up.”

                “But Ash,” said Brock, “we can loot their stuff, we can-“

                “There’s no time for that!” Ash interrupted. “We need to get him out, and that’s gonna take too much time as it is!”

                “Why don’t we just leave him?” Dawn proposed.

                Everyone in the group who was conscious stared at Dawn like she was insane. “Why would you even think about that?” Ash cried.

                “Look, I don’t care if he’s saved our lives,” Dawn retorted, “I still don’t trust him. For all we know, he’s leading us into a-“

                “If he was leading us into a trap, he would’ve let us die just now!” Ash shouted, his fury unable to be quelled. “He would’ve let those guys shoot us dead! Why can’t you just let it go?”

                “Because we don’t need him!” Dawn said. “We can ditch him, we can go find someone that’ll help us out!”

                “No one wants to help us, Dawn! With a fifty thousand dollar bounty on our heads, why would they? They’d just turn us in, or at least pretend to help us until they turn us over!”

                “Excuse me, but isn’t that what Lance could be doing?”

                “After he killed those grunts, the Empire would probably put a bounty on him, too! And frankly, I’m getting real tired of your shit with Lance, and I won’t discuss it further!” He turned around and began to walk. “If you don’t want Lance around, then you’ll have to give me up too!”

                Dawn looked at him, then back at the dead grunts, then back to Ash before sighing in exasperation as she followed him, the others following suit. Ash found it hard to keep up a steady stride with Lance’s weight on his back, nearly falling to his knees under his body.

                After walking on for a few miles or so, Ash fell to the ground, landing on his face, unable to break the fall with Lance on his back. Brock began to pick him back up, but Ash shoved him aside.

                “We can stop here, I think,” Ash panted. “I think we’re far away enough that we can hide up in one of these trees or something.”

                “What’s the point of hiding?” Dawn cried, “we’re just gonna run into those grunts over and over until they kill us!”

                Ash couldn’t say that she was wrong. He couldn’t even count how many times they had run into a group of Grunts and barely made it out alive. What could they do to keep from having to see them again? _Could_ they do anything?

                “No, that’s not gonna happen!” Ash assured. Brock was silently looking on with concern. “We can try hiding for a few days, and then they won’t find us.”

                Dawn shook her head as she began to climb the first tree that she saw, not checking to see if the branches were big enough, or even if they were safe to climb on at all.

                “Brock, I need your help to get Lance up in the tree. I can’t lift him up on my own.”

                Brock nodded as Ash reached into his backpack and pulled out his strand of rope. He tied one end of the rope around Lance’s chest, taking the other end and climbing up the tree about ten feet or so. He wrapped the rope around a branch before bringing the rope back down to the ground, effectively creating a makeshift pulley.

                Back on the ground, Ash tugged on the rope to make sure it would hold before giving a hard pull on it, hoisting Lance’s upper body into the air. After a few more pulls of the rope, his entire body was floating in midair, his feet barely able to touch the ground. Ash continued to pull until Lance disappeared into the canopy of the tree. He grinned, taking pride in his own quick thinking.

                “Brock, hold this rope while I tie him to a branch.”

                Brock silently did so as Ash began to climb the tree until he was level with Lance’s limp body. Untying the rope that was around his chest, he quickly tied the rope around him and the branch, the same way that they had done last night.

                “OK, Brock, you can let go!”

                Ash felt the rope below him go loose as Brock released the rope. He pulled the rope up into the tree as Brock and Pikachu joined him. Pikachu ran up to Ash and perched himself on his shoulder, where he was most comfortable.

                “Now we get to wait, I guess…” Dawn said. Brock nodded in agreement.

                “Once Lance comes to, then we might be able to get moving again. Until then, we’re staying put.” Ash settled himself down on a branch next to Lance, setting his backpack on his lap.

                 The hours they spent in silence felt like weeks, the only sound coming from a chopper that flew overhead during that afternoon. The overhead chopper was the highpoint of their day; besides that brief moment of worry and fright, the rest of the day was filled with absolutely nothing; no speaking, no sound, no mishaps. Nothing.

                When the sun began to set and the sky grew dark, Ash had decided that he had had enough of the silence. “I’m turning on the radio,” he said, “to see if there’s any more news.”

                Neither Brock nor Dawn objected. He pulled out the radio from his backpack and flipped on the switch as the radio greeted him with its familiar static hum.

                He toyed with the dial randomly, hardly able to see the markings on the console in the darkness. He tried for several minutes, silently rejoicing when he heard a low, grim voice speak from the box.

_“…killed a total of 19, I repeat, 19 Rocket grunts singlehandedly before she was to be executed. In the impending riot, 84 civilians were killed, as well as an additional 12 Rocket grunts, not to mention the extensive damage to the city of Snowpoint. It is believed that Zoey McHale has since fled the city, as her whereabouts are currently unknown.”_

“Zoey?!” said Dawn incredulously.

                Ash shrugged as he turned the volume up on the radio. He wasn’t exactly surprised that she had fled with a fight. She was a real tough trainer, and her abrasiveness was the only reason why she had won the Grand Festival in the first place. He had no idea why she would be put to death, though, or why someone would _try_ and put her to death.

                “ _A bounty of $10,000 has been placed on McHale’s head. Meanwhile, the search continues for the four trainers on the Rocket Empire’s Most Wanted List. Dawn Berlitz, Brock Harrison, Ash Ketchum, and Lance Luxforde are all wanted by the empire for theft, murder, and assault. So far, their party has killed an estimated 10 Rocket grunts. The bounty on their heads has just         been raised to $200,000, dead or alive.”_

“That’s not very surprising,” Ash said, turning off the radio. “I’d still like to know what the hell we stole from them. It’s not like the egg is theirs!”

                Above him, Brock grunted as Ash put the radio back in his backpack. When he did so, he realized that, even with everything he needed, his pack was still somewhat roomy inside. He looked over at Pikachu, who was nibbling on a poffin in Dawn’s lap.

                “Pikachu, come here,” Ash whistled. The pokémon pounced off of Dawn’s lap and into Ash’s. “Listen, I wanna keep you safe. I know you’re not gonna like this, but I’m keeping you in this backpack.” Pikachu grimaced at the thought of being hidden in a cramped space like his pack. “In case something like this morning happens again, I want to be able to keep you safe. You understand, right?”

                He still wore a sour face, but nodded anyways. “Good,” Ash said. “I’ll cut out a slit in the side so you can poke your head out, that way it’s not so stuffy.”

                Pikachu nodded again, his sour look slowly fading from his face. Ash took his knife from his waist belt and cut a slit in the pack about four inches long, strategically placed on the top of it, so that nothing would fall out.

                The pokémon crawled into the bag, completely disappearing until his head appeared through the slit. Ash laughed at the sight of his head popping out, yet was saddened at the same time. Pikachu had never been in a Poké Ball in eight years. His backpack was the closest to a Poké Ball that he would get, but the idea of him having to do this for the sake of protection still crushed him emotionally.

                Ash sighed. “Let’s just go to bed. Maybe tomorrow we’ll be able to get moving again. I’ll take first shift for watch.”

                Dawn and Brock said nothing as they prepared for bed, digging in their bags for rope and blankets. Ash did the same, careful not to jostle Pikachu too much in the pack. He tied the rope around his waist, as usual, and settled in for the night. Ash placed the backpack in his lap and, inserting his hand into the slit, grabbed hold of Pikachu’s paw, never letting go even in his slumber.

*****

_November 17_

                Ash and Pikachu were the only ones in the tree when he woke up the next morning. Even Lance was missing from his resting spot.

 He could smell a faint wisp of smoke, and the scent of burning meat as well. A hushed voice barely reached his ears. He jumped from the tree to see Lance, sitting upright by a fire next to the others. Lance turned his head when he heard Ash land on the ground.

                “Well,” he said, “look who’s finally awake!”

                Ash smirked. “I could the same thing about you,” he replied. Pikachu cooed as he poked his head out of the backpack. “How you feeling?”

                “I’m conscious, so better.” He grinned. “You slept in for quite a while. For a second we were thinking you took a Sleeping Syringe of your own!”

                “Funny,” Ash said sarcastically. “So what’s the plan for today?”

                “Stay alive.” Lance’s expression suddenly turned serious. Dawn and Brock looked on uneasily. “We’ll find that riverbank again, and then hug that southward. That way we’ll have somewhat of a path to follow.”

                “As long as we don’t get sidetracked by those grunts again,” Dawn pointed out.

                “I don’t understand why we’re dealing with them so often,” Ash wondered aloud. “There’s so many of them!”

                “Beginner’s luck,” Lance said, “or in your case, beginner’s bad luck.”

                Finding the riverbank proved to be a formidable task. Since they had walked so far from it the previous day, not only did they have to cover that distance, but they had to try and retrace their exact steps back to where they were the previous day. They hadn’t gotten to the river until mid-afternoon, and by then everyone was more than willing to take a short break for some water.

                “The river is flowing that way,” Brock said as he pointed to his left, “and rivers always flow south. That’s where we wanna go, right?”

                Ash was somewhat surprised that Brock had spoken. It was the most that he had spoken all day, or even in the past _two_ days, for that matter.

                “Right,” Lance confirmed. “Let’s finish filling our bottles and get back on the road.”

                When night had fallen that day they never came in sight of any roads, only a dirt path that they didn’t bother to follow.

                Surprisingly enough, this day had been even more boring than the last. No encounters with any Rocket grunts, no serious injuries…Ash didn’t know whether to be relieved or bored out of his mind.

                He would end up choosing the latter. What he didn’t know was that the next week would play out exactly like that day had – boring. For a week absolutely nothing had happened that was out of the ordinary. They followed the same routine every day for a week without any interruptions.

*****

_November 24_

                They would eat breakfast at the crack of dawn before trekking off for a few hours. After taking a short break, about fifteen minutes, in the afternoon they’d keep going until dinner, which almost always consisted of cooked Stantler along with some other canned food. Everyone went to bed after dinner; by then it would be too dark to keep going, and there would be nothing else to do in the darkness.

                Adding to the boredom of that uneventful week in flight was the overall somber mood of everyone in the group. They all had reasons to be mad at someone, or something. Ash was mad at the Empire for messing up their lives so much. Brock wasn’t mad at anything; he just seemed depressed, hardly speaking at all as he stayed in his own personal bubble. Dawn was continuously mad at Lance, and for basically no reason either. And Lance? He wasn’t mad at any particular thing, but he had a rather gruff attitude, no matter who was talking to him or what he was doing.

                One night at dinner, Ash finally noticed that Brock’s demeanor had changed drastically. He hardly talked anymore, he noticed, and when he did, it was in a low pitch that would barely be audible.

                “Alright, Brock,” said Ash, “what’s going on?”

                Brock slowly looked up at him. “What do you mean?” he mumbled.

                “You know what I mean!” Ash exclaimed. “Why are you always so depressed? I mean, yeah we’re on the run for our lives, but at least we’re trying to keep morale around here!”

                Brock sighed. “It’s my family. I can’t help but think that they’re…well, dead.”

                It was Lance who spoke up this time. “Look, I know that you’re worried about your family. We are, too. But you need to understand that there’s nothing that we can do about that.”

                “Yes, there is!” Brock shouted in anger, flinging his bowl of food away. “We can at least try and leave Sinnoh, get to-“

                “We went over this!” Lance interrupted, “you can’t leave the region, or get into any other ones for that matter. You’d get shot down in a minute!”

                “How the hell do you know this? It’s not like you’ve tried it, so how would you know?”

                “I did try!” Lance shouted, “I tried to get back to my cousin, and I think we all know how that worked out!”

                Ash stepped in at this point. “And newsflash, Brock, but you’re not the only one whose family is probably dead, so stop acting like you are! Dawn and I both have mothers at home, and they’re probably dead, too, but you don’t see us bitching about it!”

                “So you’re saying that you don’t care at all about your families?” Brock shouted.

                “Of course we do!” Ash replied, his frustration coming to a boil. “But we’ve accepted that we can’t do anything about it, and that’s what you need to do, too!”

                “Enough!” roared Lance.

                Everyone stopped the commotion in fright.

                Lance’s beet red face seethed in rage. “We’re not running for our lives to kill each other here! That’s _not_ why we’re doing this!”

                They could all cut the tension like a knife. Ash awkwardly rubbed the back of his head, toeing his foot into the ground. “Sorry,” they all mumbled.

                Lance snorted. “I’m going to bed. No more commotion for the rest of the night.”

                As he climbed up a tree with his stuff, everyone else silently cleaned up their stuff as they got ready for bed. Not a word was spoken as they all tied themselves in and fell to sleep faster than they had in a long time.


	15. Betrayal

_November 25_

                As soon as Ash woke up the next morning, he knew something was terribly wrong. But what was it? It seemed warmer than normal, which was nice, and the wild Pokémon flew and scattered about as usual. But something still seemed…off.

                He looked to his right to see Dawn, still sleeping on her branch. Lance was doing the same above him. Ash knew that Brock was supposed to be keeping watch below him, but when he looked down he saw nothing but a white slip of paper weighed down by a rock.

                Immediately suspecting the worst, he reached down for the slip, barely able to grasp it. When he finally had it, he brought it to his eyes and read it:

                                _Guys – I can’t just stay here and wonder if my family is dead or not._

_So I left, and I’m going to leave Sinnoh, whether you guys likes it or not._

_I’m sorry, but I can’t just wait around hoping. I needed to take action._

_Once I get word on whether they’re OK, I’ll try to get back to you guys._

_\- Brock_

_P.S. – I went ahead and took Lance’s Altaria for extra protection. Tell_

_him that I’m sorry and that I’ll try to return him someday._

                Ash read through the note twice, fully digesting what the words said. “ _Brock’s gone,_ ” he thought. _“He actually left. He stole Lance’s Pokémon. And now he’s gone…that bastard actually did it!”_

                “Guys, wake up!” Ash hissed. Lance stirred himself awake, but Dawn didn’t move at all.

                “Whuz goin’ on?” Lance asked groggily. “What ‘appened?”

                “Brock ditched us!” Ash exclaimed as he nudged Dawn awake. Lance reached for the note, which he skimmed over quickly.

                “Son of a bitch!” he shouted, crumpling up the note and flinging it as far from him as possible. Before Dawn could ask what was going on, Ash leapt from the tree with his backpack in hand and began running.

                “I’m gonna try and find him, maybe he hasn’t gone far!” Ash exclaimed. “Both of you stay here, I’ll be back soon!”

                “Ash, wait!” he heard Lance shout, but he didn’t respond; he was already sprinting with no destination. Pikachu squirmed around in the backpack, struggling to get his head into open air. Ash honestly had no idea where Brock could’ve gone, he was only thinking of combing out the immediate area.

                Ash didn’t stop running until he was a good quarter mile from the others. He finally stopped when he realized that running blindly in one direction wouldn’t get him anywhere. He slowed down to a steady jog, which quickly turned into a walk, then a complete stop.

                He sat down in exhaustion and frustration. Brock was gone, and whether they’d ever find him or not was doubtful, at best. He stroked the back of Pikachu’s ear a little too hard, causing him to whimper in pain. Ash quickly retracted his hand as he mumbled an apology.

                Pikachu stroked Ash’s arm with nose in understanding, causing Ash to grin briefly. “C’mon,” he said, “let’s get back to the others.”

                “Pika-Chaaa?”

                Ash took that to mean that he was asking about Brock. “He just went to grab some stuff,” he lied, “but he’ll be back soon.”

                Pikachu, seeing through Ash’s lie, zapped him with a small jolt of electricity and a reprimanding look as Ash flinched. “Okay, you win,” Ash grunted. “Brock left us. We’re not sure where he went, or if he’ll be back.”

                The pokémon suddenly seemed saddened by the news. “But we’re gonna try and find him,” Ash reassured, “and who knows, maybe he hasn’t gone far. Let’s get going.”

                But before he could get up, he heard the _whirr_ of a chopper flying above him. He and Pikachu froze in place, fearing that the chopper had their sights on them. Eventually, however, it flew past them and into the distance.

                Before the color could return to his face, a lone gunshot echoed for miles, coming from the direction that Ash was facing. Which is where he was headed.

                And where Dawn and Lance were.

                After making sure that the shot wasn’t fired at him, he immediately sprinted in that direction, fearing that it would’ve been fired at one of the others. “Pikachu, get in the bag and stay there!” he grunted between breaths. Surprisingly, Pikachu did as he was told and retreated into the bag as Ash kept up his sprint.

                The sprint back to their spot, however, seemed much longer than it had when Ash left it earlier. Covering the quarter-mile seemed to take a quarter of an hour, but in reality Ash had no idea how long it took. All he was concerned about was making sure that the others weren’t hurt.

                “ _What if they were hurt?”_  Ash thought as he stumbled over a stray branch. “ _What if they both did get shot? Wait, they couldn’t have, there was only one shot. So who fired it?”_

                He tripped over his own two feet, his train of thought having distracted him. He got up and began his sprint again, but before he got for he noticed from the corner of his eye a blue blur. He turned to see half of Lance’s body, his back to him as he lay slumped upright against a tree.

                “Lance?” Ash shouted. But Lance didn’t respond, or even move for that matter. Ash walked up to him, shouting, “Lance, answer me!”

                He turned to face him. He wished he hadn’t.

                 A bullet hole the size of a quarter neatly plastered the center of Lance’s forehead, a fresh stream of blood trickling down his face. His eyes, normally a bright and radiant crimson, were vague and expressionless, aimed at the ground.

                “Lance?” Ash asked in a quavering voice.

                But Ash knew that Lance was dead.

                “Lance!” He began to sob in anger when he realized that Dawn was nowhere to be seen. “ _Oh shit,”_ he thought, “ _where the hell is she? Oh God, please don’t let her be dead, please don’t let her be dead!”_

                “Dawn!” he shouted. “Dawn, where are you?”

                Almost as if in response, Ash heard a clatter of footsteps to his right. He immediately turned to see a bastion of gray and black, heading straight toward him.

                His agony turning to pure adrenaline, Ash immediately ran in the other direction, but not before scooping up Lance’s backpack, which lay next to his body. He could hear bullets being fired just as he disappeared behind a bush.

                Quickly glancing behind him, he could tell that there were far too many grunts to count; at least three dozen, probably more. Far too many to fight.

                 Fearing that the bullets could land in his backpack, he quickly slipped his bag off of his shoulders and clutched it in his chest as he kept sprinting madly. He’d kill himself if Pikachu got shot, or worse…

                As he slipped Lance’s backpack over his shoulders, he could hear the sound of multiple helicopters flying above him. He glanced up to see not only a half-dozen choppers that had Grunts grappling down from then, but also a group of Salamence, all of whom were charging up a Hyper Beam aimed right for him.

                He dived to his left to dodge a Hyper Beam, then kept running, quickly changing direction to avoid another one. He ran past a tree just as a bullet landed in it, right where his head had passed it. Ash drew his gun from his hip and began firing blindly behind his shoulder, knowing that it wouldn’t help as he ran right into a black smoke cloud that appeared around him.

                The smoke’s effect on him was instantaneous.  His eyes began to sting and water, his lungs burning as he ran from the smoke cloud. Through his watering eyes he thought he saw Dawn running in the distance, but he wasn’t sure. Whoever it was, they were running in the opposite direction, so Ash couldn’t find out who it was.

                 He saw a cluster of Rocket Grunts to his right, causing him to immediately run the other way. The barrage of gunfire continued behind him, and Ash was sure that the only reason he managed to avoid being hit by gunfire was because he was a fast moving target.

                He heard the growl of a Houndoom to his side as a Hyper Beam landed a mere meter behind him. The pure adrenaline pumping through his veins was what allowed him to outrun the pokémon…initially. The pokémon soon caught up to him and knocked him down, and Ash soon felt the quadruped beast on top of him.

                Ash looked up to see his teeth bared, ready to shred him to bits. He brought up his leg from under the Houndoom and kicked him to the side. It yelped in pain, but Ash didn’t have time to feel bad. Lance was right; when you were being shot at, you don’t worry about morals. You worry about saving your own goddamn life.

                 He continued running, sliding into a different direction as another black smoke cloud seemed to magically appear in front of him. He turned only to see another Salamence being manned by a Grunt, his Hyper Beam nearly fully charged. Ash managed to duck before the beam could take off his head. He leaped over a large branch as the chaos of the attack continued around him.

                “Pikachu, you okay?” he shouted.

                “Chaaa!” Pikachu cried.

                Something hard hit Ash in the head, knocking him down. He glanced over his shoulder to see an Electrode as his feet, primed to explode with an evil grin on its face. Ash pushed himself off of his feet and bounded wildly away from it. When the Electrode exploded, Ash was just far away from it to be blown into the air, but not seriously injured.

                It didn’t take long after landing before he took his first bullet. He felt the bullet graze the bottom of his chin, causing him to howl in pain as he cupped it whilst running in all sorts of directions. Luckily, he noticed a huge wall of the black smoke, towering at least fifty feet in both directions, off to his left. Taking a deep breath, he dashed into the wall of smoke, emerging from the other side to find that the other side was completely empty of any hostiles.

                He quickly hid behind a large tree, trying to mop the blood from his chin. The cacophony of gunshots still pierced Ash’s ears, and he could tell that they were still firing through the wall of smoke, hoping for a confirmed kill.

                “ _This is insane!”_ Ash thought, “ _Why do they need so many of them to kill just a few people?”_ He felt trapped behind his tree; if he went out and ran, he’d be shot dead in a matter of seconds. But if he stayed where he was, the slew of Grunts would eventually find him hiding and kill him then. The branches on the tree were too high up for him to climb, so that wasn’t an option.

                But then he saw the wide river to his right, the same one that he saw in the Aura more than a week ago. It was all there; the same elegant, winding river, the same steep overpass that stood between him and it. He understood then what the Aura had told him: “ _Come to me, or die.”_

                Knowing what he had to do, he bolted from his spot and toward the river, using Lance’s backpack as a makeshift shield against the gunfire. The shield kept him from any life-threatening injuries, but he painfully took another bullet to the upper leg before throwing himself down the overpass.

                He tumbled and turned down the overpass, the gunfire still aimed toward him. He would’ve been hit, too, provided he wasn’t going down the hill at a breakneck pace. The river drew ever nearer, he noticed mid-tumble. The light from a charging Hyper Beam came from the top of the overpass. He shifted himself to the side as best as he could to avoid the Hyper Beam, which missed him by mere inches. The force of the beam being so close to him blew him down the remainder of the overpass and straight into the river.

*****

                It was Lance’s shouting that woke Dawn up the next morning. She slowly propped herself up on her elbow to see Ash jumping from the tree.

                “I’m gonna try and find him, maybe he hasn’t gone far!” she heard Ash shout. “Both of you stay here, I’ll be back soon!”

                “Ash, wait!” shouted Lance. She didn’t hear Ash reply, so he must have run off.

                “Lance, what happened?” she asked.

                “Brock went off on his own,” Lance snapped, “specifically after I told him not to!”

                “What? Where would he have gone?”

                “How the hell should I know?” he retorted. His rudeness seemed to get worse and worse each day, she noticed.

                “Should we follow him?”

                Lance sighed. “There’s no telling where he’s gone,” he said. “We may as well just wait here for him. I’ll make some breakfast real quickly.” He climbed down from the tree, Dawn following soon after.

                Lance gathered some wood for a fire, leaving Dawn with nothing to do. She attended to her backpack to pretend to sort out some supplies, her back to Lance. She glanced at him distastefully. “ _What the hell has he done in the past week?”_ she thought, “ _besides almost get us killed and tell us what to do? And pretend like he’s our friend, too. Seriously, how the hell does he live with himself?”_

Then, a thought dawned on her. What if _Lance_ was the reason that Brock is gone? _“He could’ve easily disposed of him in the middle of the night. He did have the first watch shift, after all.”_

She turned to see Lance stuffing ammo into the clip of his gun. “ _Oh shit, I think he actually did it! And with Ash gone for the moment, what’s to stop him from killing me off?!”_ Her breathing grew rapid, her heart pounding in anxiety. _“He never did like me, he was gonna kill all of us eventually, why wouldn’t he do it now, when he has the chance!”_

Almost without thinking, she ran toward Lance, who had stood up just as Dawn pushed him into a tree, knocking the gun out of his hands.

                Her hands found the gun and pulled the trigger before he could react.

                Blood painted the majority of his head as he slumped to the ground, his back still against the tree. A slow stream of crimson blood began to flow straight down the middle of Lance’s face.  She expected him to get up, to keep fighting. But one shot was all it took, she thought. One shot was all it took for her to kill Lance.   

                At first, Dawn felt…what was the word she was looking for? Relieved, she decided. She was relieved that she wouldn’t have to worry about the bastard anymore.  But her relief soon turned to panic.

                “ _I can’t believe it,”_ she thought, “ _I actually killed him. Oh shit, I actually killed him!”_ She flung the gun behind her, wanting it as far away from her as possible. “ _Oh my God, was I really that stupid to actually kill him? Oh shit, oh shitshitshitshit…what the hell is Ash gonna think? He had to have heard the gunshot, what’ll happen when he comes back and…”_

Dawn noticed a thick bush not too far from it. Primarily out of fear, she buried herself in its camouflaging leaves, completely hidden from the outside world. She silently cried in her hands, ashamed that she had driven herself to actually kill someone, let alone Lance. Why couldn’t she trust him? Was there really any reason to suspect him of anything after all?

                Before she could answer her own question, she heard Ash’s voice, calling out for Lance. “ _Oh shit,”_ she thought, “ _when he sees that he’s dead…”_

“Lance!” he shouted. Dawn didn’t have to look in his direction to know that he was sobbing in agony. It wasn’t long before he was calling out for Dawn. “Dawn!” he shouted. “Dawn, where are you?”

                Dawn felt Ash’s pain, his agony, and wanted so desperately to call out to him, to let him know that she was okay, that she was sorry. She had barely opened her mouth to speak before Ash was off, running into the forest with both his and Lance’s bag.

                The sight of the Rocket Grunts running after him made nearly made Dawn scream. She had to cover her mouth to stifle the scream, which was only inaudible due to the gunfire that had just erupted. She was forced to wait in the bush until the grunts, as numerous as they were, finally disappeared from sight.

                She crawled out of her hiding spot, and was about to run away from where the grunts had gone before a cloud of black smoke suddenly surrounded her. The smoke, which smelled of putrid acid, forced Dawn to lie down, since she feared that more gunmen would be closer to her yet.

                This was confirmed when she heard more footsteps clamoring near her. She could only pray that no one would notice her hiding in the smoke cloud, which seemed to wear away at her senses with each and every passing second; her eyesight deteriorated, partly due to the smoke itself and partly due to the tears that stung her pupils. Her muscles became tense, her lungs burning with increasing intensity.

                The sound of the hostiles around her didn’t go away at all. In fact, it seemed to Dawn that more and more Grunts were passing by her, safety only guaranteed by the cover of the smoke, which Dawn felt would kill her any minute now. Knowing full well that what she was about to do was probably suicide, she forced herself to bolt from the smoke cloud and into the nearest safe cover that she could find.

                When she stepped from the smoke cloud and into open air, she saw that all of the Grunts were now a fair distance from her; they were running toward the direction that Ash had gone off to. Dawn saw her chance and ran the opposite way, away from the chaos and gunfire.

                But getting away, let alone running, proved to be a fortuitous task; her eyesight, which had initially been restored after leaving the smoke, now became blurrier by the second. Her ears were ringing uncontrollably, and her muscles ached, a stabbing pain shooting through her legs with each step she took. Even breathing was next to impossible, her lungs burned that badly.

                She was forced to sit down beside a tree to collect herself, or at least try to. All she could see now were shapes and figures, nothing definite. She was gasping for air; the only sound she heard was the loud ringing in her ears. Dawn felt like she would die any minute. “ _Is this what I get for killing Lance?”_ she thought, “ _A slow and painful death?”_

                She curled herself up into a ball, waiting for death to envelop her whole. At that moment, the ringing that dominated her hearing was joined by a new wave of gunfire. Dawn retreated further into her ball, fearing death but expecting it at the same time.

                The gunfire came from both her left and her right. But what was everyone firing at? “ _If they were firing at me,”_ she thought, “ _they would’ve hit me by now! So who the hell are they shooting at?”_

She looked to her right to see a towering figure standing over her as it fired off an automatic. Dawn was left to assume that, since there was only one person near her,that it was firing at a group of Grunts. The figure was shouting something to her, but she couldn’t make out what it was or who the voice belonged to.

                Dawn had no idea what to do. Did she stay where she was and hope that the figure would somehow get them out of this? Or did she try to run away and hope that she didn’t get shot?

                Knowing that the figure was most likely heavily outnumbered, she got on her aching feet and half ran, half stumbled away, her hands shrouded over her head.

                She hadn’t moved ten feet before she felt a shooting pain in her spine. She fell to the ground, but strangely enough, she wasn’t dead.

                Reaching behind her back, she pulled out what felt like a long rod that protruded from her lower back, just opposite her navel. She didn’t have to see it to instantly know what it was. Already she could feel the effects of the Sleeping Syringe take hold of her already ravaged physical state. She tried to get up and keep going, but the effects of the drug combined with the short stint she just made left her completely drained physically. She barely had the strength to even breathe. Any moment now, the figure, whoever it was, would fall dead, swarmed by the number of Grunts that it was facing off against. And then they would get to her, lying there weak and helpless. She was done.

                Dawn felt herself slowly drifting off, her blurred vision slowly turning to nothing. “ _Goodbye Brock,”_ she thought, “ _goodbye Mom, goodbye Ash, goodbye Pikachu.”_

_“Goodbye Lance.”_

She felt as if she were flying just as she slipped under.


	16. Collapse

_November 25_

                It was the sound of gunshots, faintly in the distance, that woke Brock up the following morning. He unsheathed his knife as he climbed down the tree, in case any gunmen were nearby. It wouldn’t be much defense-wise, he thought, but it was all he had.

                Brock looked off in the direction where the shots came from. He couldn’t see anyone firing a gun, so the gunmen, wherever they were, had to be a safe distance away.

                “ _But what if it’s Ash and everyone else that’s being shot at?”_ Brock thought. “ _What if the Grunts caught up to us...er, them and they’re running for their lives, or they’re already dead?”_

“Stop it,” he told himself, “you’re not getting anywhere by bothering yourself with this crap. There’s no way you’re gonna go out there into that mess, it’s not worth dying to see if they’re _maybe_ involved.”

                Brock walked on for a few more minutes until the gunshots faded away. Whether they had ceased or whether he was out of earshot was beyond him. He set his bag down and began to make a fire.

                Once the fire grew, he cooked up a pot of Pokémon hash, not even thinking of feeding himself. Brock didn’t have to make much food; all he had was his Croagunk, Sudowoodo, and Chansey. That, and Lance’s Altaria. How would he react to being separated from Lance?

                Shoving the thought aside, he released all of the pokémon, save for Altaria. The three of them ate their food hurriedly, not noticing that Brock was alone until they had finished. Setting their bowls aside, they then took notice of everyone’s absence as they looked at Brock quizzically.

                Brock ignored them as he stamped out the fire, but he fell over as the agonizing sting of Croagunk’s Poison Jab hit him in his thigh. He twitched on the ground momentarily before meeting Croagunk’s intimidating stare that translated into something like, “You better tell us what’s going on if you know what’s good for you.”

                He got up and brushed the dirt off of his clothes. “I don’t think you guys are gonna like this, but we’re headed out of Sinnoh. Ash and everyone else decided to stay behind in this mess.”

                Almost immediately, his pokémon all shouted in protest at his actions. “Look, it was something I had to do!” Brock objected, “and there’s nothing we can do about it now. We’re gonna try and get to Kanto. From there, we might either stay there or come back to Sinnoh and back to the others, depending on how things go.” He was purposefully vague about his true intentions when he said that last part.

                Croagunk lunged at Brock in anger, but Brock dived out of the way as he called Croagunk back into his Poké Ball. He shot Brock one last sour look as he morphed into a cloud of red light and disappeared into the Ball.

                He turned toward his other Pokémon. “You guys aren’t gonna attack me too, are ya?”

                Sudowoodo and Chansey didn’t look angry, but worried instead.

                “I know that you’re probably worried about everyone else,” said Brock, “I am, too. But they’re still pretty well off. They have food and supplies for a while yet, and Lance is there for protection. If anything, they’re better off than we are.”

                The two pokémon looked fearful when Brock said they weren’t as better off. “But we’re still alright, just as long as we stay out of trouble.” He assured. “Lance gave us his Altaria, too…well, he didn’t _give_ it to us, but you get the idea. So that makes five of us.”

                His pokémon were only slightly comforted by his assurance. _“Oh well,”_ Brock thought, “ _they’ll just have to get used to it.”_ He called his pokémon back to their Poke Balls before continuing to venture south, or what he suspected to be south.

*****

                Ash plunged into the water with a hard _splash,_ his worn body nearly colliding with the bottom of the riverbed. The freezing water pierced every inch of his body. If Ash didn’t know better, he would’ve thought he was swimming in a river of knives.

                His body told him to react to the cold water, to get the hell out, but his mind told him to play dead, since the grunts still had sight of him. His backside surfaced as he heard the popping of gunfire behind him as he was carried away into the distance. Getting away, however, ended up costing him another bullet wound, this one right next to the one he already had in his leg.

                The river bent to the west, putting Ash out of sight from the grunts. The gunfire had ceased, which Ash took to mean that he was in the clear. Gasping for breath while grunting in pain, he wanted to keep floating down the river to get as far away from the grunts as possible. The freezing cold water, however, told him otherwise. He resorted to swimming, which quickly turned to doggy paddling, to the edge of the river and pulled himself onto dry land.

                The first thing he did was unzip the main pocket in his pack. Pikachu scurried out of the bag, which had become waterlogged, and sputtered up some water. Ash, sighing in relief, crawled toward him, his leg keeping him from walking.

                Pikachu gasped at Ash’s wounds, which by now were spilling blood down Ash’s leg and onto the grass. He dug around in his backpack for a roll of bandages, which he found as he shoved away the egg and a box of painkillers. “ _Forget the painkillers, I’ll bleed to death in a few minutes if I don’t wrap this up.”_ Ash thought.

He didn’t even bother to roll up his wet pant leg as he hastily wrapped the bandage around his upper leg. It wouldn’t stop the pain, but at least he wouldn’t bleed out. Knowing it would be awkward to have to wrap a bandage around his bloodied chin, he simply dabbed at it with the bandages to wipe away some of the excess blood.

                Ash tried to push himself onto his feet, but the pain in his leg was still too intense for that, let alone walking. Reaching for his pack again, he found the box of painkillers again and swallowed two of them, grimacing as their bitterness remained in his throat. He knew that they would have no immediate effect, but the tantalizing thought of relief made him take the pills, even if they only somewhat alleviated the pain.

                His mind jumped back to the grunts. They’d still have to be close, he realized. There was no way that he’d be able to get away on his leg, so he was essentially stuck there. With what hope he had left to stay alive, he frantically tried to crawl further from the water and into whatever cover the surrounding forest could provide. As tired as he was of having to venture in a forest when there was an open field downriver, he knew better than to complain since the forest would keep him hidden.

                Pikachu, who had been keeping up with Ash’s slow crawl, scurried off straight into the forest without warning. Ash called for him, but the mouse disappeared into the camouflage of the forestry without returning a word to his trainer.

                Ash hung his head low and collapsed to the ground in despair. “ _Lance is dead. Dawn may as well be. Brock ditched us, and now Pikachu has too. It’s just me. I could be the only one alive of the four of us. But not for much longer…”_

                He suddenly became aware of a rustling bush in front of him, and he lifted his head to see Pikachu, staggering his way back to him with a long stick. Exactly how Pikachu managed to find the stick, which was nearly as long as Ash was tall, was beyond him. Grabbing the stick from Pikachu, he propped himself up on his feet and tried using it as a walking cane.

                He found that shifting his weight to the makeshift cane didn’t make walking painless, but it made it bearable. Ash looked down to see Pikachu taking pride in his ingenuity.

                “Good work, bud,” Ash said. “Let’s get going.”

                Pikachu climbed up onto Ash’s shoulder, inadvertently latching on to his wounded leg in the process. He winced in pain and nearly fell over, the cane being the only thing that kept him standing. Before the pokémon could even open his mouth to apologize, Ash said, “You’re okay…its fine, really…”

                Neither of them spoke as Ash half-ran, half-stumbled as far from the river as he could manage. If it weren’t for the cane, he’d probably be back at the river. He hadn’t heard any additional gunfire or grunts, which was a good sign. Still, he kept forging his way deeper into the forest, the thought of nearby gunmen the only thing keeping him going.

                Eventually, however, that thought was trumped by the exhaustion that overcame him, forcing him to sit and rest. He had been stumbling through the forest for…he didn’t even know how long. Five minutes? Ten? Probably not that long, he thought. A large bush not too far from Ash attracted him with the promise of cover from the outside world.

                He laid the stick down on the ground before hiding himself in the shrubbery. “ _Five minutes,”_ he told himself. “ _Five minutes, and you’re back at it.”_

Ash’s leg still throbbed; he didn’t know if the pain would ever fully subside. Given that he was suffering from three gunshot wounds, two of them within an inch of each other, it didn’t seem likely. Besides that, he was violently shivering from the cold water that clung to every particle of skin on him.

                What he planned on doing or where he planned on going was a mystery even to him. He knew that he and Pikachu couldn’t stay in one spot for too long, but it would be redundant to just wander around forever. If he was gonna run – or in his case, hobble – for his life, shouldn’t he have a destination in mind? Even then, it would help to know where in the region he was in the first place.

                Ash ended up leaving the question unresolved as he prepared to leave. Out of impulse, or maybe instinct, he peered through the bush to see if anyone was near. Had he not done that, he would’ve died right there.

                He was taken aback by the sight of one lone grunt, slowly walking parallel to him with an assault rifle in his hand and a small pack over his shoulder. It wasn’t the grunt himself that had surprised him; what had surprised him was the fact that he was alone. Shouldn’t there be a whole group of them?

                His first thought was to just wait until he walked out of sight. That idea was blown out of the window, though, when he sat down on a large rock directly in front of him.

                Flight was his next idea. Get out of there before the grunt could notice. But he proved to be too close to Ash for that to be a possibility. That left only one other option. He pulled out his gun from his hip, fingering it uneasily. Would he really have to kill him just to get away?

                He looked at the grunt, then down at his gun, then back at the grunt. There was no way he would be able to get away without attracting his attention. No, there were only two options here, he convinced himself: kill or be killed.

                Ash gripped the gun forcefully, violently shaking from cold and anticipation. He raised the gun toward the man, which rustled the bush that he was hiding in. This alerted the grunt, who quickly cocked his head toward him. Rather than kill him, the idea of dodging the gunfire that would ensue briefly flashed through Ash’s mind, but Lance’s words echoed otherwise:  _You don’t worry about morals; you worry about saving your own goddamn life._

                It was his echoing voice that willed Ash to pull the trigger before the grunt could even raise his gun. The bullet splattered blood over the gunman’s gray chest as he fell to the ground.

                Ash forced himself to get up, to grab the dead man’s pack, to get his ass out of there before anyone else could swoop down on him.

                As if the sight of the dead body from the bush wasn’t enough, he could barely keep standing when he towered over it. He knelt down to remove the pack from his shoulders when he noticed that the man’s chest rising and lowering slightly.

                He fell backwards, shocked to see that he was still alive. The shock turned to pure fear when the grunt slowly turned his head toward Ash, giving both him and Pikachu a blank stare.

                “I-I-I- I-I-“Ash stammered, trying to find the right words to say to this guy. Exactly what did you say to a man that you shot and lay dying before your eyes? He half-expected the grunt to whip out his gun and start shooting at him. But he didn’t. He didn’t even make a grab for it.

                What he did do, however, would hurt Ash more than any bullet ever could. The grunt, instead of trying to kill him or even attack him, nodded in understanding. Understanding of why Ash did what he did. The nod didn’t last long, but Ash knew what it meant quick enough. The grunt then took his dying breath as he turned his head toward the sky.

                It was the grunt's eyes that conveyed emotions that words could never describe. In those last few seconds of the grunt's life, those clear blue eyes showed regret, hurt, shock, and pain, but most of all, acceptance. Acceptance of his death. Acceptance of the fact that Ash didn’t want to kill him.

                 The emotional impact of everything that had happened in the past several days suddenly hit him full force. The loss of his pokémon.The grunt’s death in the Poké Mart. Cyndaquil’s death. Lance’s death. Dawn’s and Brock’s death, assuming they were dead. And now this guy’s death. To Ash, it felt like all of those things had happened all at once, right then and there.

                Whatever physical strength he had while standing was enormously outweighed by his outpouring of emotion. He slumped to the ground, doing nothing to stop or even control the sobs of agony. What did he care if someone were to kill him, right here right now? If there had been more than one grunt, he’d gladly let them kill him.

                Eventually the tears ran dry, and he was left there in silence.  He still didn’t have the strength to keep going, so he sat there in his own guilt. “ _This grunt…he had a life,”_ he thought, “ _he had his own family_ , _his own worries, his own reasons for enlisting in the Empire. He had a life outside of killing and hunting. But that’s gone now. Gone because of me.”_

                He looked down at his gloves, which over the past week or so turned blood red and dirt brown from its normal navy blue. His gloves had given him strength in the past, the will to keep going. But now the gloves seemed dead, almost as if the blood on them was its own blood that had been shed throughout the past several days. Ash, consumed by undirected anger, ripped off his gloves and viciously stomped them into the ground, completely burying them in the dirt.

                Once he was done, he stood over them, his breath seething through his teeth. Pikachu looked at him with fear. Ash returned a bitter stare to him.

                “Let’s go,” he said in a voice equally as bitter. He and Pikachu began walking in the same direction they had before, not bothering to look back at the grunt. He had more important things to worry about.

*****

                It was mid-afternoon by the time Brock finally stopped for a quick rest. He panted heavily while trying to think amidst his exhaustion. Knowing that there wasn’t anything to think about, he pulled from his backpack the radio that he borrowed from Ash the night before. If he didn’t have anything to think about, he thought, then the radio would give him something to dwell on.

                It didn’t take long after messing with the dial before he found signal. He turned the volume down slightly, not wanting to alert anyone, as he listened in on the broadcast:

                                “ _…for three of the young trainers known to be on the run from the_

_Empire, Ash Ketchum, Dawn Berlitz, and Brock Harrison,_

_have been raised to $500,000. This comes after the fugitives have_

_evaded Empire authorities for eleven days on charges of theft,_

_murder, assault, and evasion of arrest.”_

“ _Evasion of arrest?”_ thought Brock. “ _More like evasion of death.”_

_“The bounty of $10,000 on Zoey McHale on charges of murder_

_remain. However, the bounty on Lance Luxforde on charges of_

_murder, treason, assault, and evasion of arrest have been lifted_

_for reasons not made immediately clear by the Empire.”_

Even if the Empire didn’t make it immediately clear, to Brock it could only mean two things: that Lance was either captured or killed by the Empire.

                Brock stared at the radio, hoping that it would take back its words. “ _Nonononononono,”_  he thought frantically, “ _no, he can’t be dead! He’s supposed to be the tough guy in all of this, how could he be dead?”_

The radio never recanted its words, instead going on about some riot.

                Brock hurled the radio at a tree, causing it to shatter and fall to the ground in pieces. Slumping to the ground, he wept silently over Lance, still in disbelief. “ _Why did he have to die?”_ he thought, “ _of all people, why him?”_

                A thought suddenly came over him as he looked at the destroyed radio. The bounties for Ash and Dawn were still standing. Which meant that they were still out there somewhere, and that they were okay. Well, maybe not okay, but alive at least. If they weren’t, then why would there still be a bounty?

                He slowly turned to his left, where Brock had come from. To his right was the southern coastline, or where it would be once he reached it. But Brock decided then that he would never reach any coastline or leave the region, for he ran in the direction that he came from, where he ran from the others, and where he hoped to find them.


	17. A Promise Kept

_November 25_

                Ash had to stop and rest twice more in the hour after he walked away from the dead grunt. The painkillers had done nothing to quell the pain from his gun wounds. At this point, he had no idea if it would ever go away at all.

                He remained standing as he set his stuff against the forest floor. Having to sit down only to get up a few minutes later was quickly becoming cumbersome. There still hadn’t been anymore gunshots since he left the river, so Ash assumed that he was in the clear. Pikachu hopped off of his shoulder and lay down next to him.

                _“_ Two minutes,” he said to himself. “ _Oh, who am I kidding? It’ll take way longer than that, and I know it.”_

As usual, he spent his rest shivering from the cold weather and plotting his next move. “ _I’m gonna have to find somewhere to hide, and some more water. I only have a day’s worth or so, and just as much food.”_

                Pikachu, he noticed, shivered much more violently than Ash. He grabbed for his backpack and unzipped the main pocket as Pikachu climbed in and poked his head out of the slit. As he gently set the backpack down on the ground by his feet, he glanced at Lance’s backpack and picked it up.

                The promise that he made to Lance about taking his stuff when he died came back to Ash. “ _Wait, wasn’t I supposed to take his Pokémon too?”_ he thought. Praying in his head that the pokémon were in Lance’s pack, he opened up all of the pockets and dumped its contents on the floor.

                He frantically sifted through the pile of supplies. “ _C’mon, please be here, please be here!”_ He gave a heavy sigh of relief when he saw the red chromium Poké Balls in the center of the heap. Picking them up and fingering them, Ash suddenly felt a sinking feeling in his stomach. “ _I’m gonna have to tell them why Lance isn’t here,”_ he thought, “ _and who knows how they’re gonna take that…”_

Taking a shallow breath, he flung the Poké Balls into the air. From the clouds of red light came out Lance’s Dragonite, Magnezone, and Torkoal, all of whom looked confused as to their new surroundings. “ _Wait, where’s Altaria? Oh, that’s right, Brock stole her. Damn fool.”_

                “Guys, I-I don’t really know how to say this,” Ash croaked, “but Lance, he, um…well, he died.” His pokémon looked instantly shocked, startled by the news. Ash could relate. “The Empire f-found us,” he swallowed to hold back his tears, “and they killed Lance. Dawn and Brock might have been killed, too.”

                The pokémon cried in agony, and Ash fought to not do the same. “Look, I promised Lance that I would take care of you guys, and I plan on keeping that promise. Are you guys okay with sticking around with me?”

                They cried for a few more seconds before calming down enough to wipe their tears. After looking apprehensively at each other, they nodded in unison at Ash’s request.

                “Good,” Ash said with a grin. He walked over to Lance’s pokémon, which were now _his_ pokémon, and embraced them as they all returned the favor. “ _I can get used to these guys. And I can just pretend that Torkoal is the one I had. It’ll be like I have my pokémon back…”_

 “You guy up for some food? It’s long past breakfast.”

                All of the pokémon, Pikachu included, voiced their agreement somberly. Ash began to chop wood for a fire as the pokémon talked amongst themselves quietly.

                Chopping the wood took much longer than it normally had with his wounded leg. What was normally a fifteen minute task took almost an hour, the pain in his leg keeping him from chopping more than a few seconds at a time. “ _If I can’t do something about this soon, it could get worse.”_

                “Shut up and chop the damn wood,” Ash told himself.

                He looked over his shoulder to see his pokémon horsing around with a pine cone. “ _At least they’re able to have some fun for once.”_

                Before Ash even thought about cooking up some food, he spent a few minutes warming himself up by the fire. The pokémon, despite being starved of food, didn’t complain as the five of them huddled over the minimal warmth the fire provided.

                The constant groan of Ash’s stomach prompted him to pull out two cans of beans from his pack. He realized then that Brock had all of the cookware – the pots, pans, silverware, everything.

“Torkoal, come ‘ere” Ash said. Torkoal sluggishly made its way over to him. “Do you think you can hold these cans over the fire, while I try and find something that we can eat off of?”

                “Koallll-Tork!” the pokémon cried. Torkoal sat himself up and, grasping the cans between his hands, held them just above the flickering flame.

                “Good work,” Ash said. “I’ll be right back. Dragonite, keep watch for me, will ya?”

                Dragonite nodded. “Pikachu, you’re coming with me, okay?”

                Pikachu looked at Ash like he was stupid, a look that said, “ _Do you really have to tell me to come with you? I know by now that I’m gonna follow.”_

                They walked away from the others, Ash keeping an eye out for anything that could suffice as a bowl or spoon. He wandered in circles – or _a_ circle, since Ash was still walking slowly – for five minutes before he was forced to stop to catch his breath, his search coming up fruitless.

                “ _Okay, this is getting ridiculous. If I can’t hobble around for five minutes without having to take a damn break, then how the hell am I supposed to survive?”_ He kicked a small tree in anger with his good leg. It shook violently as a few leaves rustled and fell from it. Ash was about to turn around and walk back when he felt one of the leaves land on his shoulder. He lifted his hand to brush it off, but something about the shape of the leaf caught his eye.

                He noticed that the leaf had five blades protruding from the center, an unusual amount for any leaf. They were all curved upwards, which made the leaf look like –

                “A bowl,” Ash said to himself. Grinning, he scooped up a handful of the leaves from the ground, far more than he needed. Caught up in his thoughts, he tried to run back to camp, but the shooting pain in his leg brought him back to reality. He wiped the dirt off of his face as Pikachu handed him his walking stick.

                “Thanks,” he mumbled as he pushed himself up on his feet. As they wordlessly walked back, Ash half-expected everyone to be in disarray, to have lost all control of themselves from the moment he left. But they weren’t; all of the Pokémon had been doing exactly what they were doing when he left.

                All three of them looked at Ash, expecting to see him with something a little more useful than a handful of leaves. They all gave him quizzical looks, Mangezone looking especially confused.

                “These leaves are almost shaped like bowls,” Ash explained. “It’s not much, but it’s the best we’ve got. Is that food finished, Torkoal?”

                Torkoal responded in agreement as he removed the cans from the fire. Ash took the leaves and dumped a small portion of beans into each leaf, which he handed to each of the Pokémon, save Magnezone. Since it didn’t have much use of its arms, Ash would have to feed him by hand.

                They all ate their food faster than normal, which didn’t surprise Ash too much. “ _Their stomachs have been running emptier and emptier each day,”_ he thought, “ _it’s a wonder we haven’t died of starvation yet!”_

                Before he could feed himself once he was done with Magnezone, he felt a raindrop land on the tip of his nose. He looked up to see through the forest ceiling that the skies had turned a dark grey.

                “Shit,” he hissed as two more drops landed on his face. He called the pokémon back into their Poké Balls and pulled the hood of his jacket over his head. Pikachu scurried into his backpack as Ash hobbled over to a bush, the drizzle now turning into a downpour.

                If Ash had been cold earlier, he was freezing now. Even with his jacket on, each raindrop hit his body like an icicle. Ash shivered violently, clutching his backpack, Pikachu and all, to his chest. The drone of the rainfall and the chattering of his and Pikachu’s teeth were the only sounds he heard.

                “ _There’s no way I can climb up any tree, and even if I could it wouldn’t provide much cover-wise. I have to move somewhere,”_ he thought, “ _if I don’t wanna freeze to death!”_

He spotted in the distance a cloud of brown in the sea of green forestry. Squinting his eyes, he made out a cave, its mouth barely visible in the downpour. Ash remembered the times he had nearly died in caves all over the world and shuddered at the thought. He put that behind him as he got up and limped toward the cave’s mouth, which promised him either life or a darkened death.

                Whatever visibility he had before he entered the cave completely vanished when he did. It only took him a few seconds after entering the pitch darkness before he tripped over a rock, sending him face first into the hard stony ground. Ash cursed as he turned himself over onto his back and propped himself up against the wall.       

                Much to his dismay, it wasn’t much warmer in the cave than it was outside. “ _At least it isn’t pouring in here,”_ Ash thought. He felt around in his pocket for Torkoal’s Poké Ball and released him once he found it. The embers from the pores on his back lit up the cave, but it was still quite dim.

                “Okay, we should be fine in here,” Ash said. Pikachu crawled out of the pack and snuggled up next to Torkoal, his warmth obviously attracting him. Ash took notice of his pack and realized that he had left all of Lance’s supplies in the rain. “ _Nothing we can do about it now,”_ he thought. “ _I’ll just have to get it all once it stops raining. If it stops raining, that is.”_

                He found himself curling up next to Torkoal as well. The heat that emanated from him made Ash sigh in relief as he gradually loosened up. The occasional breeze would blow in from the outside, but the heat quickly negated that. For once, Ash felt comfortable.

                 “ _Besides the fact that everyone else is probably dead,”_ he thought. _“The odds of Dawn surviving that firefight are next to none. Hell, it’s a miracle that I’m even alive. And Brock…that son of a bitch…who knows how far away he was when it all happened, his cowardly ass could be dead too. He should be dead.”_

_“He deserves to be dead.”_

*****

                Brock chucked Altaria’s Poké Ball into the air. He watched as he emerged from the cloud of red light. Before she could notice that Lance was gone, Brock had started speaking:

                “Altaria, I’m afraid that Lance…he’s d…well, he had to go do something,” he lied, “and he wanted you to stay with me. Everyone else went with him, too.”

                Altaria looked confused for a moment, the thought of Lance leaving suddenly trying to register in her head. Her confused look turned to an angry one that intimidated Brock.

                “Look, I know that it’s hard,” he began as he walked toward Altaria, but she only grew madder. Altaria got on her hind feet and blasted out a green beam of air at Brock, knocking him into a tree several meters behind him.

                The impact from the blast knocked the wind out of him, and he was blinded by the beam that hit him. After regaining his breath, he sat himself up as he patiently waited for sight to return. The air smelled of rotten eggs and burning rubber. “ _Dragon Breath,”_ thought Brock, “ _disgusting!”_ He plugged his nose from the stench as he fully regained his visibility.

                Altaria was nowhere to be seen. Brock looked all around him, but couldn’t find the bird. Brock heard a loud “ _Yaaaa”_ above him, and looked up to see Altaria, flying off into the distance, eventually shrinking to nothing as it flew over the horizon.

                Brock slammed her Poké Ball into the ground, breaking it into pieces. The shards cut his hands in multiple places, but Brock couldn’t care less. He threw the shards behind him, wanting nothing to do with Altaria. Breathing heavily, he wiped the blood from his hands onto his pants and sat down.

                “ _Lance is dead, Ash and Dawn might be too, the Empire might have the egg, Altaria is gone, and now I feel more and more like a total jackass.”_ He thought. “ _Karma’s a bitch.”_ He sighed deeply and was about to get up when he noticed a pair of eyes watching him. Turning his head, he saw a trainer in a blue hoodie and long blonde hair, standing a mere ten feet from him.

                The trainer, whoever she was, opened her mouth to say something, but Brock was already on his feet, sprinting from her as fast as he could. Brock heard a faint “Wait!” come from the girl, but Brock didn’t stop. It didn’t matter who she was, he thought, he wasn’t about to trust _anyone_ out here. He kept up his sprint much longer than he should have; the girl was far, far behind him by the time he stopped.

                Brock looked behind him to see if she had followed. His fear had only been eased a little when he saw that she hadn’t. He didn’t dare rest or recollect his thoughts; she could still be on his trail. He forced himself to keep walking in the same direction as before.

                “ _Come to think of it,”_ Brock thought, “ _I really don’t have any idea where Ash or Dawn could’ve gone. I know that I’m walking toward where we were last night, but where have they gone since?”_

He shoved the negative thought aside as he looked up at the sky. It was turning dark, partly due to the late time of night and partly due to the rain that was rolling in. “ _Time to settle down for the night,”_ he thought. Looking up at a tree, the thought of having to climb and secure himself in it didn’t exactly thrill Brock.

                “ _Can I really take the chance of sleeping down here, just for one night?”_ He decided he could. His blanket and clothes were dark enough, he figured, so he’d be able to stay relatively hidden throughout the night. He covered himself in a bush and smothered himself in his blanket, falling asleep almost instantly.

*****

                Ash woke up groggily, hardly able to see anything. “ _When did I fall asleep?”_ he thought. Torkoal’s dim fire had almost completely gone out; Ash was the only one awake. The only light came from the mouth of his cave. There was a slight itching sensation an Ash’s wounded leg, but he ignored it as he made his way to the cave’s entrance. It didn’t bother him that he was no longer cold; he was actually somewhat hot.

                The full moon seemed to illuminate the entire forest, almost as if it were daylight. To his right were the lights of a shining city; whichever one it happened to be didn’t concern Ash. It had stopped raining, but the dirt on the ground had mostly turned to mud.

                To the side of the city, Ash noticed a single light that was in the center of a dimly lit cabin. He couldn’t tell if anyone was in it, but he decided it was better if he didn’t know.

                “ _I’ll have to steer clear of those tomorrow,”_ he thought. As he turned to go back to bed, Pikachu tugged at Ash’s pant leg. Ash jumped a little, unaware that Pikachu had woken.

                “What is it, Pikachu?” Ash said. Pikachu ran over to Ash’s backpack, which was now giving off a bluish glow. He looked inside to see that it was the egg that was giving off the light.

                “ _Why the hell is it doing that?”_ Ash wondered as he held the egg. “ _Could it be close to hatching? No, it can’t be, we’ve haven’t had it two weeks. But even if it was about to hatch, why would it glow?”_

                “Pikachu, I’m telling you, this is one strange egg,” Ash said. He put it back as Pikachu voiced his agreement. The egg’s glow was only muffled slightly by his pack, which dissatisfied Ash. “ _How the hell are we supposed to stay hidden when that thing is exposing us?”_

                He laid himself over his backpack, which effectively blocked off most of the protruding light. “ _I think I’m starting to get why the Empire wants this thing so freaking badly,”_ he thought, “ _because this isn’t just an egg. It’s gotta be something more than that.”_

_*****_

_November 26_

A piercing scream woke Brock up in the dead of night. His first instinct was to run away from it, to run before he was the one screaming, but a seizing fear kept him in his bush. Surprisingly, there weren’t any gunshots that he heard; just a lot of pounding and beating noises.

                These only went on for a couple of seconds before utter silence followed. Even for the middle of the night, Brock was unsettled by the lack of ambience. No voices, no hooting, no chirping, no wind…nothing.

Out of impulse, Brock got up and slowly walked toward the scream. His footsteps crunching against the forest floor was the only sound that penetrated the otherwise silent night. He took notice of this and strode even more slowly.

                A flickering flame appeared several hundred meters in front of him as Brock froze in his tracks. He could make out a few figures sprawled around it as well as one that was sitting against a tree, but that was it.

                “ _Run, run, run!”_ thought Brock. But as much as he willed himself to run away, his body kept inching closer toward the fire. As he drew closer and closer, he spotted more figures lying face up around the fire, which illuminated their Rocket uniforms. Even more peculiar was that only one of them was sitting against a tree, and this person wasn’t wearing a rocket uniform, but a blue and tan hoodie. It was the girl that Brock had run into earlier.

                Brock’s curiosity outweighed his intuition as he advanced dangerously close to the pack. Eventually, he was close enough that he could make out every detail of what was going on.

                Eight grunts slept around the fire. Their guns lay at their sides unguarded. “ _Strange,”_ thought Brock, “ _someone oughta be keeping watch.”_ The girl wasn’t actually _sitting_ against the tree – thick rope bound her to it. Glistening blood littered her face in various places, her blonde hair strewn down her shoulders.

                Brock sidestepped around their area so that he was behind the girl. He could see that she was weakly struggling to get out, but didn’t have the energy to put up a feasible fight. A glint of silver stuck out to Brock, and he noticed that a slip of duct tape had been slapped over her mouth.

                Taking a deep breath, he unsheathed his knife and walked up to the girl from behind. Without speaking to her, he slowly started cutting at the knot that kept the rope taut. The girl, having noticed Brock, turned her head slowly toward him.

                “Shhh,” he whispered, “just keep quiet and you get outta here.” The girl obeyed and silenced herself as Brock sawed at the knot. He had to work slowly, for he was wary of making any noise at all.

                After what seemed like hours, the knife finally broke the knot in two. He finished uncoiling the rope as she removed the duct tape from her mouth.

                “Thanks,” she whispered, “I—“

                “Don’t follow me.” Brock hissed.

                Before the girl could respond, Brock was back on his feet, sprinting away from the scene before gunshots sounded again.

                He threw his hands over his head as tried to run over the thick forestry. He fell over several times, but he pushed forward. If the gunfire didn’t care for being quiet, then why should he?

                The gunfire didn’t last long, but Brock kept running long after it ceased. He only stopped when he fell and couldn’t immediately get up. Panting heavily, he sat up after making sure that no one was following him. At this point, Brock didn’t care for his safety; he just wanted a few more hours of uninterrupted sleep. He looked up at a tree. “ _Sleeping in a tree sounds pretty comfortable right about now.”_


	18. At Peace

_She saw nothing, heard nothing, felt nothing. Reaching out in front of her, her arm appeared blurry and undefined. She only remembered the sound of gunshots. That, and a shooting pain in her lower back._

“Hey there,” _a voice said._

                _She turned to see him standing there, in pristine, sharp detail. “_ Wait,” _she thought, “_ if he’s dead, and he’s here, then that must mean…”

                “We’re dead, right?” _she said._

“I am,” _the man said. “_ But you’re not. You’ll wish you were, though.”

                _She couldn’t respond before the man pulled out a gun, the same one that she killed him with, and repeatedly fired into the ground. For the first time, she felt the pain of a bullet, the pain of receiving a life-threatening wound._

_The first bullet alone should have killed her, but although she felt the pain, she didn’t bleed to death. She didn’t bleed at all._

_His clip should have run out of bullets, but he shot endlessly into her body. No matter how loud she screamed, how long she pleaded, how hard she fought to stop the barrage of bullets, he remained emotionless as he squeezed that trigger over and over again._

“He was right,” _she thought amidst her shock and pain. “_ I do wish I were dead.” _She looked up at him. ”_ Please!” _she screamed, “_ Please just kill me!” _His blank face turned jovial, a maniacal laugh erupting from his throat._

*****

_November 26_

                Dawn awoke in a cold sweat. She nearly cried in relief when she pinched herself on the arm and felt a slight nerve pain. As much as she wanted to feel her body for gunshot wounds, she realized something that stopped her cold: she was in a bed _._ Not a forest floor, or a tree branch, but a _bed_.

                A loud booming sound made Dawn coil into a ball. She expected the pain of the bullets again, but the sound of heavy rain made her realize that it was a boom of thunder.

                She swallowed and lifted her head. The walls of the room that she was in were a sharp titanium white.  A lamp stood on the nightstand next to her, and a fan above her on the ceiling, but neither of them was on. The only light in the room came from the flashes of lightning that burst through the window.

                Not sure what to expect, Dawn stood up from bed and walked over to the window. She gasped; she had to have been at least twenty stories high. Below her was a city, or what used to be a city. Debris and wreckage covered the streets as well as mounds of dead bodies, their colors faded out by the pouring rain. Those who _were_ alive down there walked over it all without looking back. Whether they took notice or not, Dawn couldn’t tell; she was too high up to see any facial expressions.

                Nearly every building that she could see was either damaged or completely destroyed. Dawn recognized the Veilstone Department Store, its windows shattered and its normally white exterior stained black from smoke.

                “Veilstone…” she said under her breath, “how did I get here?” The events from the previous day suddenly came back to her. Lance’s death, the black smoke, the figure that was shouting at her; she realized that, whoever that was, this had to be their room.

                The sound of a door creaking open alerted Dawn. She reached for her knife, but panicked when it wasn’t at her hip. Come to think of it, she hadn’t seen her pack or her pokémon, either.

                The door fully opened to reveal a red-haired girl, sunglasses hung over her maroon sweater. She held an orange jacket, streaks of dried blood running down it. It didn’t matter to Dawn that her face was painted with blood and dirt; she was able to recognize it almost immediately, even in the nearly dark room.

                “Zoey!” she exclaimed. They both ran up to each other and embraced for nearly a minute. “What the hell happened?” Dawn asked, “Why were they trying to execute you?”

                “I could ask the same thing!” Zoey responded. “Why do they want you guys so badly?”

                “Long story. Where are we?”

                “Veilstone,” Zoey replied. “I got here two days ago. This whole apartment building is abandoned. We’re the only ones here.” They both let each other go from the embrace. “You hungry? It’s just about breakfast time, and you haven’t eaten since I found you.”

                Dawn nodded as they both walked out of the room and down a staircase. “I was out hunting yesterday and I thought I heard Ash screaming or something,” Zoey said. “I chased in that direction once the gunfire broke out,” she continued, “I never did find Ash. I think I saw him running past me, but I’m not sure.”

                They reached the living room, where Dawn found her pack and knife lying neatly on a marble coffee table. Next to it laid a rifle, probably Zoey’s.

                “Do you even know who lives in this apartment?” Dawn asked.

                “Nope,” Zoey said, “but whoever it is hasn’t been here since I have.” She pulled out a small bag of beef jerky from her pocket. “There isn’t much food here, and the electricity and the water’s not running. The stove still works, though, but there isn’t anything to cook.”

                Dawn sighed, having relished briefly at the thought of a clean, steamy shower. She held her hand out for some jerky, which Zoey gave to her.

                “So,” Dawn said, “exactly how did you do it?”

                “Get myself almost killed?”

                “Yeah, I heard on the radio that you killed a bunch of grunts to get out.”

                Zoey sighed. “I was at home when the invasion happened. Snowpoint didn’t take too much damage. I thought I was safe staying there, and so did my parents. But apparently winning that Grand Festival didn’t work out in my favor. Nope, by nightfall my parents were dead and I was in Empire custody, same as the other Gym leaders and league officials.”

                “But what’s the point of all this?” Dawn asked. “Why would the empire kill the most important figures and just rule over us?”

                “There isn’t one,” Zoey said grimly, “they just came in and did whatever the hell they want. Same thing happened in a lot of the other regions, too. Anyways, they rounded up the big names throughout Sinnoh and took us to Hearthome. Confiscated our pokémon and everything, too. I think there were something like fifteen of us – gym leaders, Elite Four, Cynthia, and a few others, myself included.”

                “But how’d you get out?”

                Zoey was silent for a few seconds, then swallowed. “The day they were gonna execute us, they had us all lined up in the public square, in Hearthome. A firing squad was set up there. The sick part about it was that they forced the people to choose which one would go first.”

                “You mean that people are actually supporting what they’re doing?!” Dawn cried.

                “If you’re referring to the complete and utter lies that the Empire is putting out, then yes. Only a few people, but a few people are all the empire needs.”

                Dawn said nothing as the news sunk in. The fact that this new government wasn’t going away any time soon struck her particularly hard.

                Zoey cleared her throat. “So anyways, the Empire had the people watching the executions that day to choose who got killed first, like some sick reality show.”

                “So who’d they pick?”

                Zoey looked at Dawn uneasily. “Me,” said Zoey. “Maybe it was because I was one of the odd ones out, not being a Gym Leader and all, but that’s not the point.”

                “Son of a bitch,” Dawn said. “But can you cut to the chase? About how you escaped?”

                “The grunt who escorted me to the firing line had two guns: an assault rifle in his hand and a pistol in his hip holster. He was stupid enough to leave the safety off on the pistol. I just…saw my chance, I guess.”           

                She didn’t explain about what happened after, but Dawn didn’t have to listen to it to know how the rest went down. “The others,” Dawn said, “do you know if they’re okay?”

                “The league officials?”

                Dawn nodded.

                “No, I’m not sure,” answered Zoey. “Not all of them at least. I saw Gardenia and Byron go down, but I have no clue about anyone else.”

                “You’ve got some serious guts to do that,” Dawn said, “and that goes for saving my life yesterday, too.”

                “You know me,” Zoey replied, “I’m tough. I might be a bit younger than you, but that doesn’t mean a damn thing.”

                Dawn laughed. “I suppose you don’t know what happened to my friends?”

                Zoey shook her head. “Like I said, I think I saw Ash running during the firefight yesterday, but I’m not sure it was him. I can’t speak for Brock, though.”

                Dawn suddenly remembered about Brock, about how he had left, according to Lance. “He wasn’t with us that morning, so I’m not sure.”

                There was an awkward silence that followed. Dawn’s attention turned to her pack, lying on the coffee table. “I have a bit of food in here, if you wanna cook that,” Dawn offered.

                “Sounds good,” said Zoey, “I haven’t had any real food in days. It’s all been wild pokémon and plants. Redneck shit, if you will.” Dawn handed her a can of chili as Zoey got up and walked to the kitchen, which was behind Dawn.

                “Wait,” said Zoey, “I do have one question though.”

                Dawn turned to her. “Yeah?”

                “I had heard that Lance, that dragon guy, was on the run, too. His bounty was just as high as yours. Was he travelling with you?”

                The full force of what Dawn had done the previous day came back to her like the aftershock of an earthquake. She struggled to keep her guilt hidden from Zoey.

                “Yeah, he was. The grunts killed him yesterday,” she lied, “I saw it.”

*****

                A searing pain blazed down Ash’s leg when he woke up. His whole body felt as if it was on fire, and the pain blinded him to the point that he could hardly see. He clutched his leg, only to cause more pain. His heart thumped at a breakneck pace, and he could hardly breathe.

                “ _Shit, this whole cave’s on fire!”_ Ash thought. He tried to push himself onto his feet, but the unbearable pain would hardly let him move. Pikachu and Torkoal tried to ask Ash what was going on, but Ash couldn’t hear them over his bloodcurdling screams.

                He turned his head toward the mouth of the cave, which provided the only light. The egg had since stopped giving off its bluish glow. “ _Wait a minute, if it’s dark except for that light, then where’s the fire?”_

                 Putting his hand to his forehead, it shocked Ash to feel how hot his skin was. Gasping for breath, he tried to down some water, but he couldn’t bring himself to swallow. He sputtered the water onto his ruined leg. Pikachu was screaming at Ash to look at him, but Ash’s screaming drowned him out.

                “ _My leg, what the hell’s wrong with my leg?”_   He took his knife and cut away the bandage that was around his gunshot wounds. Ripping away the wrapping, he painstakingly rolled up his pant leg to see what the matter was.

                A large blotch of his upper leg was colored a dark red, almost as if the skin had been burnt off. Fresh blood dotted the area here and there. Ash’s heart sank when he noticed a very large portion of his skin was raised. Cellulitis, he realized. Or something like that.

                Lance had explained the dangers of viral infections a few days prior, and this one was on the top of his list. “Out here, cellulitis will just about kill you.” echoed Lance. The only thing that you have that can stop it is…”

                “ _What was it?”_ Ash thought frantically. “ _What was it that stops this thing? It was peni….peni…peni— something!”_

He grabbed for his pack and fumbled around for the boxes of medicine. He tried to read what each one was, but he couldn’t make out a single word amidst his pain and confusion. “ _Peni…peni…peni…”_

                Suddenly, he dropped everything, and he slumped to the rocky cave floor. His eyes fluttered, and his breathing was still rapid.

                Ash fixated on the cabin, which seemed miniscule from inside the cave. He was quickly fading away, the thought of peni-something still running through his mind. “ _Oh forget it,”_ Ash finally thought, “ _even if I did remember what it is, it probably wouldn’t even help no-“_

_“Penicillin. It was penicillin.”_

_“_ Penicillin,” Ash mumbled to himself. He saw Pikachu digging in his backpack just as he blacked out.

                “ _Finally.”_

*****

                Brock snuck up behind the wild Slowpoke, which was lapping water from a lake. He had run out of food earlier that morning, and Brock wasn’t too keen on hunting, but he knew it would have to be done. The Slowpoke either didn’t hear Brock sneaking up behind him or was too slow to react to him; Brock preferred to think the former.

                He slowly pulled out his knife, preparing himself to slit its throat. The Slowpoke sluggishly turned its head as Brock froze in place. It remained unmoving for a few moments, then got up and walked away, almost as if it were in a trance.

                Brock cursed under his breath as he contemplated chasing after it. He decided against it as it disappeared from the open lake and into the dense forest. “ _Why does it just walk away like that?”_ he wondered.

                It didn’t take him long to find out. The smell of sweet roses penetrated Brock’s nose, and he instantly felt relaxed. The odor only grew sweeter by the second, and relief seemed to fill Brock’s entire body.

                He found himself walking toward the dense cover that the Slowpoke had, unaware of the source of the aroma. As much as he wanted to run from it, he was forced to keep going. He just couldn’t resist. _“It’d be worth dying for,”_ he vaguely thought.

                The sweet and alluring scent vanished the moment Brock stepped into the forest cover. He was suddenly left there, with no memory of what just happened.

                To his right was a large and brightly colored plant, much brighter than the rest of the foliage around him. Brock was immediately intrigued by this; the plant was the only one like it that he could see, and even then he had never seen something like this before.

                A loud squeal alerted Brock, and he turned to see the Slowpoke from earlier, bleeding and limping. A thick, green vine came up from behind it and drove itself into the Slowpoke’s stomach.

                The bright plant suddenly burst to life, revealing itself to be a Roserade. From behind Slowpoke’s carcass came a second Roserade, its thorny arms dripping in poison.

                Brock started running just as the two pokémon noticed him. They gave chase, vines lashing at Brock as he plowed through the forest. He felt a vine try to wrap around his ankle, but he shook it off as he jumped over a log.

                Another vine wrapped around his stomach, but Brock wasn’t so lucky this time. It brought him to the ground as he made a hard landing. He was quickly dragged toward the two Roserade as he struggled to release himself. Out of desperation, Brock took his knife and slashed it across the appendage, causing one of the Roserade cried in pain.

                He was back on his feet, but not for long. An extremely thick vine curled itself around Brock’s neck, downing him for good. The vine’s grip was so tight, Brock couldn’t tell whether or not it was trying to suffocate him or snap his neck. Probably both, he thought.

                Any attempt he made for breath was fruitless. He quickly turned blue in the face and was floundering on the ground. A Roserade landed on Brock’s chest and stared him down menacingly. It grinned as it raised an arm, revealing a barb dripping in venom.

                He felt blood splatter on his face, but it wasn’t his. The weight of Roserade’s body on his chest was alleviated as he heard a _thud_ to his side. Laying dead, its bright green face turned a dark crimson. The tightness around his neck loosened, and Brock rubbed it tensely. He couldn’t see the second Roserade, so he presumed that it ran off.

                “You?” a voice exclaimed.

                Brock turned to see the girl in the blue hoodie, the same one that he’d saved last night. Her blonde hair was in a tangled mess. He began to get up to run away, but the girl pointed a rifle to his chest and said, “No. You’re not going anywhere until you explain to me why you’re on every wanted poster in Sinnoh.”             

                “You know why. Theft, assault, murder, and evasion of arrest,” he parroted. He stood up slowly, not wanting to set off the girl. “What I want to know is why they want _you_. Those grunts didn’t kill you last night, they must’ve wanted something from you.”

                She lowered her gun. “Not from me specifically,” she said, “but they don’t just kill people anymore. They’re so damn obsessed with finding you and your little friends that they’ll interrogate _anyone_ for information.”

                Brock felt like he had been punched in the stomach. “Is it really that serious?”

                “Well they didn’t beat me and tie me up last night for milk and cookies,” she said. “Now it’s your turn. Why do they want you, really?”

                He sighed. “The day before the invasion, we found this egg. We don’t –“

                “Who’s we?” the girl demanded.

                “My friends. Even you should know that, they were on those wanted posters too. Anyways, we don’t know what’s in it or why it’s important, but the Empire wants it, and badly.”

                The girl eyed him suspiciously. “So where are they at? Your friends, I mean.”

                “One of them’s dead, and the others are okay, I think. But I don’t know for sure.”

                “So it’s just you for now?”

                “Yep. I left them, but now I need to find them again.”

                “I think you could use some help with that,” the girl offered.

                Brock opened his mouth to reject her offer, but then he reconsidered. “ _We can’t survive out here without either running into each other or saving each other’s life,”_ he thought, “ _and if I leave her now, we’ll probably just find each other again.”_

“Sure,” Brock finally said, “why not. No introductions – if something happens to us, I don’t wanna give anyone your name during an interrogation or something. Fair?”

                “Fair.” The girl said. “I saw you hunting by the lake. You need food?”

                Brock had never agreed to anything faster in his life.


	19. Fine Line

_November 26_

                Brock ate in silence, watching the girl tend to her pokémon. A Pidgeot cooed as she brushed her mane, while a Porygon ate alongside Brock.

                “I’ve never seen one of these before,” he said.

                The girl turned to him. “Porygon?”

                He nodded.

                “Yeah, not a lot of people have. My Dad was an exec over at Devon Corp, in Hoenn. You know what he said, the last time I saw him? He told me that there was a resistance forming against these guys. That we’d be able to drive them out from the places they’ve taken over. He called them the’G-Men’ or something. Apparently all of the execs knew this, but for some—“

                The word “Exec” bothered Brock for an unknown reason. Somehow the thought of a generic, high-ranking leader haunted him. The girl noticed this readily, silencing herself mid-sentence.

                “What’s wrong?”

                Brock sighed before answering. “What’s Jasper’s deal?”

                “Who’s Jasper?”

                “You know,” said Brock, “the Empire’s executive head or whatever. What’s up his ass that he has to take over the region for no reason?”

                She considered the question. “Well, I’m not so sure. I’ve heard some people call him a genius, and I’ve heard others call him insane.”

                Brock was silent for a moment. “What do you think?”

                She sighed. “Neither.”

                “Neither?” Brock asked, his eyebrows burrowing on his face.

                “Neither,” she repeated. “See, there’s a fine line between genius and insanity. I think that Jasper is right in the middle of that line. It’s not his guns that kill people; it’s the _people_ that kill people. It’s not the weapon that does it, but the person behind their trigger. And not the person that’s physically holding the gun, but who’s commanding them. His motive, his thoughts…that’s what kills people.”

                 “That doesn’t quite answer my question, though. _Why_ would he do it is what I’m trying to get at.”

                “Why are you asking, exactly?” she said somewhat rudely. “Not that it isn’t any of your business, but what’s the point of asking?”

                Brock shrugged. “I was just curious, I guess. Sorry if I made you mad.” He finished his food and set his plate aside. “So where were you, when it happened, uhh….what can I call you?”

                She blew a lock of her blonde hair out of her face, which gave her an idea. “Blondie,” she said. “Just call me Blondie.”

                 “Alright then,” he said. “Anyways, back to my question. Where were you, Blondie, when it happened?”

                She didn’t have to ask him to know what he meant by that. “Jubilife,” she replied. “And man, you could hardly recognize the place after those missiles hit. From what I saw, there was only one building standing when I left.”

                “It was just as bad in Hearthome, too,” Brock said. “Were you travelling with anyone?”

                Blondie’s casual expression turned into a grim one. She shot Brock a look that was void of any happiness, her eyes a black hole of despair. “My boyfriend,” she said, her voice starting to tremble. “He got hit by shrapnel, and…” her voice broke completely and she broke into a hysterical sob.

                He didn’t quite know how to respond, so he awkwardly hugged her as she calmed down. “I’m sorry,” she said, “I just—“

                “Don’t worry about it,” Brock interrupted. Blondie wiped her tears as she stood up, calling her pokémon back into their balls.

                “So exactly which way are we headed?” she asked, her voice still quavering a bit.

                Brock pointed to his left. “I’m pretty sure that the others were over in that direction when I left. They’ll have moved by now, but it’s a good start.”

                She shook her head. “Going where you saw them last is a waste of time. I think that they would’ve gone south, maybe that way.” She pointed southeast.

                “Alright then, let’s compromise. We’ll go East South East. That’s in the middle of where we wanted to go.”

                “Fine,” Blondie said curtly. They walked in near silence for the rest of the day; the only time they spoke was when Blondie commented on Brock’s ear wound.

                “How long has that been wrapped up like that?”

                Brock shrugged. “A while, I guess. I haven’t changed it too often.”

                She said nothing as they kept trekking onward. The day turned into twilight as they eventually stopped for the night. They started a fire and fed their pokémon ritualistically; Brock found the process to be the low point of his day. “ _I wonder if Blondie would agree,”_ he thought, but he decided against asking her.

                He started a fire for their own food when flash of red had lured his attention. He left Blondie hanging as he jogged toward the red…whatever it was. Picking it up, he found that it was a fragment of rough velvet, red on one side and black on the other.

                “I feel like I’ve seen this before,” Brock said under his breath. He looked over at Blondie, who was fixated on the tree directly next to Brock. He turned to see a dark blood stain, painted vertically down the trunk. Looking down again at the fragment, it all suddenly made sense. Brock dropped it in shock, backing away from the tree slowly.

                “Brock, what the hell is that?” Blondie asked, failing to keep the fear from her voice.

                Suddenly, Brock simply lost it. “Ash!” he shouted, “Dawn! Where are you? Guys?”

                “Brock, stop it!” cried Blondie, “you’re gonna attract attenti-“

                “Dawn! Ash! Pikachu! _Guys_ **!”**

Blondie resorted to tackling Brock to the ground, which cut off his cries as the wind was knocked out of him. She sat him up against a tree. “Brock, what the hell is going on? What _is_ that thing?”

                He was barely able to breathe slowly enough to speak. “It was….huff….Lance’s….huff….he’s the one….that died…. And the others may have, too. I thought…that they might be here.”

                She sighed. “With the way you’re shouting _we’ll_ be the dead ones!”

                Brock got up and dusted the dirt from his pants. “This is where everyone was yesterday,” he explained shakily, “and by the looks of it, where those grunts killed him. Ash and Dawn are still alive, I think.”

                “So what’s the plan, exactly? Just wander around and hope we’ll find them while we try not to die, like this guy did?”

                Brock turned to her. “His name was Lance, and if it’s any indication we might be able to figure out where everyone else went!”

                “Excuse me, but exactly when did this become about you and your friends?”

                “How about when you tagged along to help me find them in the first place!” His voice rose again, and even Blondie was too intimidated to calm him. “And if you don’t like it, then you can just leave! Go on, I won’t stop you!”

                Blondie stared him down, attempting to intimidate him. It took only a few seconds for her to give up. “Forget it,” she said bitterly, “just set up camp for the night.”

                Brock pointed up to a tree, one that was far away from the bloodied one. “ _No way in hell I’m gonna sleep in the same tree that Lance died under,”_ he thought.

                She looked to where Brock was pointing before she exclaimed, “Oh hell no! There’s no way that I’m sleeping in a tree.”

                Brock sighed in exasperation. “Something tells me that you weren’t sleeping in one last night. Now, if you don’t want what happened last night to happen again, then I suggest that you get in that tree.”

                She shot one final look at him, one that translated to, “I swear that if you didn’t save my life then I’d take yours.” Scaling the tree, Brock followed suit.

                “We’ll find a river tomorrow,” he said as he pulled himself up, “That way we’ll have some kind of a path to follow.”

                Blondie only grunted as she laid herself down on a branch. Wordlessly pulling out a blanket, she turned her back to Brock and fell asleep.

                “ _Blondie. What a stupid name,”_ he thought.

*****

                The sofa’s soft, woolen material immediately told Ash that he wasn’t dead. “ _Damnit,”_ he thought. He fancied the idea of slipping from life. That way, he wouldn’t have to put up with the Empire’s shit.

                He sat himself up to meet the red sunlight that poured in from the adjacent window. He glanced down at his watch, which displayed “5:09 PM” in monochrome display. Pikachu snored at Ash’s feet, but the other pokémon were nowhere to be seen.

                Ash tried to get up off of the couch, but the stinging pain in his leg reminded him of the day’s earlier events. Rolling up his pant leg, he was unsure of what to expect, or what he wanted to expect.

                The redness of his skin was completely gone, the only red coming from the handfuls of dried blood. The skin was no longer raised; there was absolutely zero trace of any cellulitis.  The only abnormalities he could see were the two bullet holes, exactly one inch apart from each other.

                “ _How the hell did I survive that?”_ He thought. Ash, noticing that his backpack was by his feet, grabbed it and opened the main pocket. He saw one of the medicine boxes had been hastily opened, the cardboard ripped in places. Flipping the box over, he saw the label on it in small, black lettering: “ _Penicillin antibiotic. For oral ingestion only.”_ He looked in the box to see that two of the pills were missing, having been punched out of the sheet of twenty.

Everything that had happened after he had passed out suddenly became clear to him. Pikachu must have forced it into his throat after he had fainted. He probably had Dragonite take him to the cabin that he saw last night. “ _His ingenuity saved my life,”_ he realized. Ash grinned at Pikachu, who was still sleeping. 

                Going back to his leg, he squinted to see a glint of silver; he quickly realized that it was the bullet, lodged in his leg far beyond retrieval.

                “ _Shit, now I’ll never be able to get those out of there,”_ he thought, “ _at least not without passing out from the pain.”_ He sat on the couch in futility until an idea dawned on him. Ash dug through his backpack and pulled out Magnezone’s Poké Ball.

                “Magnezone, do you know the move Gravity?”

                He nodded.

                “OK, well this is gonna sound crazy, but here’s what I need you to do. I need you to use Gravity to get these bullets out of my leg, and do it—“

                Magnezone cut him off, immediately shouting his protest.

                “Damnit Magnezone, just do it!”

                Magnezone was silenced for a moment before nodding in agreement. Ash grabbed from his pack the Poke Ball with supplies, unleashing it as the mound of items landed with a _clunk_ on the wood floor. He had to sift to the bottom of the pile to find what he was looking for: the white roll of bandages, the same ones that he had used to wrap up his leg the previous day.

                The thought of having bullets ripped from his body unsettled him. Terrified was more like it, Ash thought. “ _I know that I need to walk again, and I gotta get these bullets out of me to do that. But what if this doesn’t work? Will I just bleed to death?”_

                “Magnezone, on my count of three, okay?” Ash said.

                Magnezone nodded, but the look in its eyes showed that he wasn’t ready. Ash shoved his fist into his mouth to muffle the screams that he knew would come.

                “One,” Ash muffled. Magnezone grew more worried.

                “Two.”

                “Three!”

                Ash could feel the bullets being ripped from his leg, the pain far more intense than when he had been shot. Even his fist could not muffle the high pitched scream that ensued. The bloody bullets clinked onto the floor, and Ash could see a look of apology on Magnezone’s face. Pikachu had woken up, shouting at Ash to calm down, unaware of what had happened.

                “Good job, Magnezone,” Ash said once he stopped screaming. He took the bandages and wrapped it around the wounds, which began to expel a fresh batch of blood. It seeped through the bandage, but slowed down and eventually stopped.

                It was only now that he allowed himself to survey the room he was in. The couch was a dull leathery brown, and was torn up in a few places. Blending in with the brown couch was the brown, wooden walls and floor, which were laden with paintings and bookshelves. A small TV lay on the floor opposite Ash, the front door to his left. To his left looked to be a kitchen, with a table, fridge, and stove lined up together facing a slew of cabinets. Past the kitchen was a hallway, which probably had a bedroom, or a bathroom.

                He called Magnezone back to his Poké Ball, pocketing it as he stood up. His leg still hurt, but the pain was more tolerable this time. With a small spark of optimism, he walked the five steps or so into the kitchen. The pain was still there, but with a few painkillers and some willpower, what was to keep him off of his feet?

                Ash looked out the window above the kitchen sink. The cave was barely visible from where he stood, and beyond that the mystery city. “ _Yeah, this is definitely that cabin,”_ he thought. But eventually, that thought became, “ _Oh shit, I’m in someone’s cabin!”_

                “Hello?” he called out. The only thing that responded was silence.

                “Hello?” he repeated, this time a little bit louder. Again, silence.

                He looked over at Pikachu, who was watching him intently from the sofa. “Pikachu, wait here. I’m checking this place out.”

                Pikachu nodded as Ash pulled his gun from his hip and ventured into the hallway. Cautiously grasping a doorknob, he swung the door opened, keeping his gun pointed to the floor. The bedroom he had walked into was empty, but there was a light on anyways. Ash recognized this to be the light that he had seen last night.

                “Hello?” he called out once more as he flipped the light switch off. When no one called back, he had decided that whoever lived here had long since abandoned it. Ash walked out of the bedroom and into the hallway, where Pikachu stood waiting for him.

                “I thought I told you to stay in the living room,” Ash said sternly.

                Pikachu shrugged. “Pik _aaa_ ” he said unapologetically.

                Ash sighed as he walked with Pikachu back into the kitchen. His eyes caught the old, whirring fridge, and he opened it. The cool blast of air nearly sent him running. In a warm cabin like this, cold was the first thing he _didn’t_ wanna see. He mustered the courage to look inside the fridge for its contents. All he saw was a gallon of milk that had long since spoiled and some rotten celery. Ash sighed in disappointment; he at least wanted to find some decent food, or maybe some ketchup for Pikachu.

                Picking up the spoiled celery in disgust, Ash picked out a few spots on it that might be edible. He set it aside and opened the freezer, which was attached to the fridge. A gallon of vanilla ice cream and a frozen ham was all that was in there.

                The ham didn’t look gourmet; upon further inspection, Ash saw that it was a Grumpig. “ _Not exactly the tastiest, but it’ll do,”_ he thought. He then opened up the tub of ice cream to see that it was half full.

                Ash suddenly became giddy; it had been ages since he had any of the delicacy, and the fact that his life was in danger only seemed to make it more appetizing. Beaming, he turned to see that Pikachu had an equally eager look.

                “You know,” Ash said, “I don’t remember there being a law that said we can’t have ice cream for dinner. Do you?”

                Pikachu, hardly containing his excitement, shook his head.

                “Well, ice cream it is, then!” Ash exclaimed.

                Pikachu cheered as Ash opened the cupboard to find a set of plastic bowls. He wasn’t able to find an ice cream scooper anywhere, so he had to settle for a large spoon, one of the seven that he had found. He dished out the ice cream in four bowls; one for him and Pikachu to share, the other three for Dragonite, Magnezone, and Torkoal. 

                The four pokémon and Ash made for a rather tight fit in the cabin. There was only room for Magnezone in the kitchen, and Lance’s other pokémon had to eat in the living room. Ash and Pikachu were scrunched up at the small table, Magnezone hovering next to them.

                “Pikachu, you can have the first crack at it,” said Ash, “I’m gonna go feed Magnezone. Don’t eat all of that, okay?”

                He nodded as he brought the second bowl of ice cream to Magnezone. He ate it rather slowly, since electric types weren’t accustomed to cold foods. But Ash was pleased that he didn’t complain about it, since any food was good food these days.   

                Magnezone had only halved the dessert in his bowl when Ash took notice of the telephone on the counter. It was one of those rotary dialers, the ones where you had to slide the number around the dial and wait for the dial to reset before putting in the next number. “ _They haven’t made these in a hundred years. It’d be a miracle if this thing even worked!”_

Ash picked up the headset and was shocked to hear the dull dial tone. He quickly lowered the phone from his head and held it, shaking violently. “ _I could use this to call Dawn’s mom,”_ he thought, “ _or even my mom. My mom…”_ the thought of her mother, likely long dead, came back again as he shuddered. “ _And Lance had mentioned as well about the censorship…what if I call my mother and it’s just some imposter, acting like she’s actually her…”_

“Man up!” Ash told himself, “it’s better to pretend she’s okay than to not know at all.” He dialed the region code for Kanto, 3, and waited for the dial to return. When it did, he put in the rest of the number: 538-2486.

                Shuddering in anticipation, he held the phone up to his head, but was immediately met with a cool, female voice:

                “ _We’re sorry, but inter-regional calls cannot-“_

                Ash cursed as he hung up the phone before the voice could finish. He sighed and turned to Pikachu, who looked at him sadly, knowing full well what was going on.

                “Go ahead and finish the rest of that ice cream,” Ash said. “I’m not hungry.” He went into the hallway, but Pikachu followed closely behind him. Ash turned to tell him to go away, to just leave him alone, but the thought of Dawn somehow popped into his head.

                “ _She could be dead, flat out dead. Deaddeaddeaddeaddead!”_ The word replayed through his mind like a skipping record. He nearly fell to his knees in horror of the thought. But then his mind jumped to her mother. There was no telling whether _she_ was alive. Who’s to say she wasn’t?

                He slowly walked back to the phone and dialed the number for her house: 237-5489.

                The first ring. Nothing.

                The second ring. Nothing.

                The third ring. Nothing.

                The fourth ring.

                “ _Hello?”_ said a woman’s voice.

                Ash said nothing, afraid that this wasn’t Dawn’s mother, but some imposter, or a completely different woman who just happened to pick up her phone. It _did_ sound like it was her, but still…

                “ _Hello?!”_ said the voice again.

                “ _That’s it,”_ Ash thought, “ _that’s definitely her.”_

                He gulped. “Mrs. Berlitz?” he said.

                “Umm, I’m not sure if I have any of those left,” she said in a high voice, “but let me check in the other room.”

                There was a fit of shuffling footsteps on her line, but Ash had no idea what was going on. “Mrs. Berlitz? Are you there?” he asked. “Mrs. Berlitz? Johanna?”

                She finally came back on the line. “Ash, where the hell are you?” she said, this time in a much lower voice. “And what about Dawn?”

                “I’m not sure. We all got separated, and-“

                “Ash, listen to me.” she said. “I can’t stay on the line for long. But you need to watch out for yourself, the Empire has their men looking all over for—“

                “Yes, I know,” Ash interrupted, “they’ve come close to killing us a few times. But I’m not sure where your daughter is, Johanna, I-I’m…” he had trouble getting the words out.

                “Don’t you worry about her,” she said sternly, “whatever happens, happens. You only need to worry about yourself for now, because if you get yourself killed then she’ll be out of luck, too. She’s able to survive on her own; she’s smart, and quick, you know that.”

                “Yeah, of course,” Ash said, “but when she’s up against dozens of-“

                “Ash, what did I just say? I mean, if you want to go looking for her, then that’s fine by me. But you need to be careful, understand?”

                Ash nodded, unable to register that she wasn’t able to see it.      

                “Good,” she said to his silence. “I have to go, now. If you find her, tell her I’m okay. Don’t call this number again.”

                “But wait!” Ash exclaimed, but Mrs. Berlitz had already hung up the phone.


End file.
